


Twain

by whiteroses77



Series: Twofold [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: Adventure & Romance, First Time Bottoming, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2018-12-25 08:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 47,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteroses77/pseuds/whiteroses77
Summary: After writing the biggest story of his career so far, something happens that’s going to have lasting repercussions for Clark Kent, and that will change Bruce Wayne’s life too.





	1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Twain 1  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,906  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: After writing the biggest story of his career so far, something happens that’s going to have lasting repercussions for Clark Kent, and that will change Bruce Wayne’s life too. 

~*~

It was a bright springtime day in Metropolis. The citizens had relinquished their winter coats for the first time without fear that the weather would change on them and the cold would catch them out. A casually dressed and sunglasses wearing, Bruce Wayne was sitting at an outside table at the café across the street from the Daily Planet building. He sipped his tea from the horrendous oversized mug, Alfred wouldn’t approve, and trying to make sure, he didn’t spill tea on his white shirt. He sensed the attention of passers-by. Although Gotham and Metropolis weren’t that far apart in distance, when it came to his notoriety it might as well be a different world. The Metropolitans’ interest in him wasn’t because he was an infamous playboy. Their passing interest wasn’t of concern either. He wasn’t oblivious to his own physical charms. Yet he knew that not many people would feel the same way once they got to know him. He knew he was hard work. However, he didn’t really care what anyone thought; they could take him or leave him for all he cared about niceties. He smiled into his mug as he modified that thought, there was one person that he cared what he thought of him. His best friend had earned it. That man just loved hard work.

Bruce glanced at the Daily Planet newspaper laid out on the table. The front page headline proclaimed the fortitude of that man. ‘Edged Out’ by Clark Kent. His teammate had managed to do something that Superman and Batman could never do on their own, he’d put a lasting dent in Intergang’s hold on Metropolis by getting evidence and using the legal system. Bruce was proud of him. Now here he was waiting for the man in question so that he could congratulate his friend in person, and so he could treat him to lunch at a more upmarket establishment than this one.

He waited. His impatience was making him itch a little. He glanced at his watch. How could a man with super-speed be so damn slow at getting here? He called him as soon as he’d arrived at the café. His internal moaning came to an end when something tickled his senses. He felt eyes on him. He glanced up and he saw Clark Kent standing on the sidewalk across the street. Clark smiled at him as he caught his eye, and then navigated the traffic to reach him. Bruce smiled and stood up reflexively at his approach. He didn’t have time to ponder his chivalrous actions, before Clark was already there. Clark motioned to the chairs, and they sat down together.

The waitress appeared promptly, and took Clark’s offer. As she left, Clark adjusted his glasses, met his gaze, and his eyes smiled at him. “I wasn’t expecting your call…” he began.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt…” he reached out, and he pinched a tiny piece of coloured crepe paper from his shoulder, “…if you were celebrating.”

Clark’s eyes found the tiny piece of party streamer. He shrugged, “I didn’t mean I wasn’t happy about it. They won’t even realise I’ve gone, any chance to have a party that lot in there.” He half smiled. Then he glanced at the newspaper on the table, and he said, “You read my article?”

Bruce mirrored that half smile, “Yes I did, it was very good work, in both ways.”

He saw an enchanting light blush come to his teammate’s cheeks at the praise. He uttered, “Thank you.”

The waitress re-appeared, and set Clark’s coffee onto the table. Clark thanked her, and paid. After she had left, he picked up his mug and took a sip. As soon as it touched his lip, Clark hissed, and brought the mug away. Bruce stared in shock. It took him a moment to understand what had happened. Then Clark shrugged, and touched his lips with his fingers; he winced and said “Ow.”

With deep concern, Bruce asked, “You burnt yourself on the coffee… Are you…?” he began to question, then he stopped, realising the truth and he scolded softly, “Idiot.”

Clark knew that he knew and he cringed, “I had nowhere to put it until I got home, and then I was going to give it back to you.”

He remembered a few days ago. While Clark had been undercover within Intergang, his friend had contacted him and asked him for the fragment of blue meteor, that his teammate had trusted him with to keep safe in case of emergencies. He didn’t know the details but Clark had assured him that he needed to be able to prove he was an average guy in the coming days. Batman had brought it to him at the run down flop house in Suicide Slum that he’d been living at during his assignment. He’d removed it from his utility belt, handed it over and then left without even considering how Clark was going to put it away when he needed to without a lead container of some sort.

Ticked off at himself for the error but mostly dealing with the anxious thought of Clark being hurt, even if it was just a tiny burn, he grimaced, “If I’d have known I would’ve come and picked it up, you should’ve let me know.”

Clark tilted his head, and said wryly, “It’s only a tiny burn, I can handle it.”

“Not funny.” He muttered.

“Aw I didn’t know you cared.” Clark said with a playful lilt.

He couldn’t reply. He couldn’t make light of what he had come to feel for his friend. At his silence, a little curious crease came to the bridge of his friend’s nose. Bruce was thankful for his sunglasses that he wore that shielded him from Clark seeing right through him. He was also thankful right now that the blue Kryptonite meant he couldn’t use his powers to physically see past them as well.

Unease made him fall back on his dramatic skill; he drew a smirk onto his lips, and drawled, “I care about the empty slot on my utility belt.”

His friend continued to stare at him, and for a moment, he wondered if Clark had finally seen past his act. His friend was a great investigative journalist, but for better or worse, he hadn’t seemed to notice the clues and put them together. In the end, Clark blinked and then returned his gaze to his mug of coffee. Bruce watched him as he dipped a fingertip into his coffee over the edge of the mug, testing the heat. Then he watched as he brought the tip to his lips and sucked off the coffee. Bruce swallowed hard, it was an innocent act, but something stirred inside Bruce, something that he had spent a lot of time coming to terms with. 

Guilelessly, Clark lowered his finger, and then commented, “I think it’ll be cool enough in a minute.” Then he added, “Or maybe I should blow it.” Then Clark shot him a cheeky smile.

It was those kind of moments that made Bruce question his friend’s ingenuousness. Again, he was thankful for the protection of his sunglasses. Damn, he needed to get back to his typical way of thinking, and stop dwelling on that side of things. He’d been doing a pretty good job for a while now. He picked up his own mug and drank the last dregs of tea. He motioned to Clark’s drink, “Come on, drink up, we’ve got somewhere else to be.”

Automatically, Clark followed his suggestion, picked up the mug and took a sip. Then he asked, “So where are we going?”

Bruce smiled a real smile, “I thought I’d treat an outstanding journalist to lunch at Chateau Bleu.”

Clark’s eyes widened and he said with awe, “That’s the top restaurant in Metropolis. Even the Planet’s restaurant critic Julius Gavin gave it 10/10.”

He said playfully, “The best for the best.”

“Well I’m honoured.” His friend said sincerely.

Bruce watched on as Clark finished his drink. Then as they stood up, Clark’s hand went to his pocket, as he wondered, “Shall I give it to you now or…”

He knew that he meant the blue K. He replied, “Pass it over when we get in my car, and then we can leave it there when we go to lunch.”

His friend nodded along. Then they headed towards the silver Lamborghini at the curb. As they walked, Clark was saying, “You know I won’t be able to treat you…”

Then out of nowhere, too fast for him to do anything but lunge for cover, bullets strafed past them from the direction of a moving vehicle. As the car drove off, Bruce sighed loudly, “That was close.”

He waited a beat, and when there was no reply, he turned around. His heart seized but his body moved diving towards the blood splattered sidewalk, diving towards the body splayed out. The sound of Bruce’s voice was harsh and terror filled, “Clark!”

There was a commotion all around, a woman screamed in horror, and Bruce pressed his hands to the gurgling holes in his friend’s blood stained torso, but there was too many to cover. Clark gazed up at him in shock through his glasses lenses; somehow, they’d managed to stay on. He breathed out, “B.” before his eyes turned glassy. 

Bruce whined primitive and terrible. He gathered him up and held him. With his head laid in his lap, Bruce dug into his pocket, he desperately wanted to grab the blue Kryptonite, and throw it away. But he couldn’t, it was something they had never considered talking about, the plan if anything like this happened. Would Clark want him to save his life but by doing so expose his secret identity in the process? It wasn’t just him, it was his mom too, and everyone that Clark Kent cared about. He didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. Instead, he reached into his own pocket, and he grabbed his cell phone, he pressed speed dial 00. When it was picked up, he choked into the handset, “Code Red Blue Zero-zero-one Dash Blue.”

The voice on the other end said simply, “Confirmed.”

He put his phone away, and then he cradled Clark with both arms, he prayed quietly, “Please don’t take him away from me, please.” 

He could feel the people all around them. He heard chatter but no words. He could feel a dozen camera lenses pointing, from a dozen cell phones. He shook his head against Clark’s; there was no hiding this, not in today’s world. The videos would go viral. It seemed forever, but with his powers, he knew it couldn’t have been, when Flash’s scarlet boots came to a stop beside them. Bruce raised his face, and it was only seeing his teammate’s face, did he realise that there were tears flowing down his own cheeks. 

Flash knelt down on one knee, and he spoke professionally, “Sir, let me take him.” he saw the concern in Barry’s eyes, “I’ll get him to the doctor.”

Bruce understood, and he released his hold on the body. Flash scooped Clark up, and then they disappeared before his eyes. Bruce struggled to his feet. He glanced around the sidewalk, he saw all the gawkers. He wanted to rail at them, he wanted to scream ‘How dare you.’ at them for invading this private moment. Then he felt a delicate hand touch his shoulder and he jerked around, and found her distraught face, her chest heaved as if she had run all the way from the bullpen. Lois’s eyes found the blood on the sidewalk, and then darted back to his blood soaked white shirt, and then his eyes. In turmoil, Clark’s friend demanded, “Tell me… tell me please.”

He pulled her into his arms and he cried into her ear, “I don’t know, Flash took him to sickbay, I don’t know.”

Lois whispered back, “There’s hope then, there’s hope.” 

He pulled back and stared, and with both hands, he stroked her dark hair, then he nodded. Then the squad cars arrived, and Bruce knew there was no running away from this. He had to give a statement, a statement about how the journalist Clark Kent had been gunned down in the street. There were witnesses with proof, there was no denial to be had. Nobody human could survive that.

~*~ 

The waiting was hell. He’d sat with the Metropolis cops, until the red stain on his shirt had dried to crispy brown. There was nothing more that he could tell Sgt Dan Turpin than an ordinary civilian like Bruce Wayne could tell him. He and Clark Kent were going to lunch to celebrate his article. The shots came out of nowhere. He didn’t see the car, or the gunman. He didn’t know who they were, but it wasn’t hard to guess that it was pissed off members of Intergang wanting revenge on the reporter who toppled their boss. They asked about his relationship to Clark. He told them the truth. The strength it would take to make something up had failed him. He told them that they’d met while Clark had been investigating a story years ago, and they’d become friends. 

He’d needed to get out of there, but a part of him yearned to stay in that fluorescence lit interview room. He hadn’t wanted to face the reality outside of there. He wondered about the location of the blue K. He felt suspicious, suddenly paranoid that someone hadn’t followed the code system correctly. The code implicitly stated that it was Superman, it was a level one injury, and there was blue Kryptonite involved. He hoped they had found the fragment of meteor and got it away from him. If there was any hope… any hope at all.

Even as he walked down the corridors of the Watchtower towards sickbay, he was still afraid of what Emil was going to tell him when he got there. Had Lois been right, was there hope, even though he’d been riddled with bullets, while he’d had blue Kryptonite in his pocket?

He halted with his hand on the door. He felt sick as he remembered Clark offering him the blue K back. Damn, if he’d only taken it, Clark could’ve dodged the hail of bullets, and Superman may even have been able to stop the assailants as well. He knew if Clark was dead, that he was partially to blame, that he’d be responsible for the death of the man he… 

He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought. A little voice condemned, ‘You should’ve told him, coward you should’ve told him.’ He blinked back the tears that threatened to show. He took a heaving breath, and he pushed the doors of sickbay open, and walked in.

He saw the body on the hospital bed. The sheet was covering him to his armpits. The pallor of his skin was in bleak contrast to his black hair. There was no sounds, the sickbay was in complete silence, there was no life support bleeping, nothing. He approached slowly. When he reached his bedside, he wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was afraid, afraid of the deathly cold of his skin. Self mockingly, he chuckled hollowly at the thought of the big bad bat being afraid. He took a seat on the edge of the bed. He managed to pluck up the courage, and he reached out and he caressed Clark’s hair with shaky fingers. In his peripheral vision, he saw Dr Hamilton enter the room, go over to a machine, and check a reading across the room. Bruce didn’t say anything, and Emil didn’t make comment on Bruce’s fingers touching the man on the bed. 

When Bruce returned his full gaze, he found aquamarine eyes contemplating him. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat and a rush of air gathered in his lungs. Clark blinked slowly, and then he murmured, “I’m dead aren’t I, B?”

He frowned, and he glanced back at Emil to see if there was any recognition. Bruce honestly didn’t know if he was imagining this or if it was another type of anomaly, with their lives you never could be sure at first. Bruce dropped his hand to Clark’s chest, and he felt warm skin and a strong heartbeat against his palm. He shuddered with the joy of feeling it. Tears threatened to show again, even as he smiled with relief, and said, “No, Clark you made it.”

Clark swallowed hard, and he shook his head. “No, I mean Clark Kent’s dead.”

He grimaced and then revealed, “I’m sorry, there were too many witnesses.”

Dr Hamilton walked over, “I’m just about to sign the death certificate. I’ll send my autopsy report to the police later.” The diminutive doctor winced with sympathy, “I’m so sorry Clark.” 

His friend’s face showed his quiet devastation at the loss. Bruce felt bad for him, and for Emil having to falsify records but he couldn’t help the relief that he felt because he hadn’t lost him.

 

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Twain 2  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,518  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark has to figure out his next move after leaving sickbay.

~S~ 

Wearing clothes that he’d previously left aboard the Watchtower, slacks and a white dress shirt, Clark Kent paced the length of sickbay as he waited for the okay from Dr Hamilton so that he could leave. It was a formality; anyone could see that he was perfectly fine to go home. Anger tried to rise to the surface, home… he couldn’t go home. To his neighbours and to the media connected world at large the journalist Clark Kent was dead, gunned down in a suspected hit by Intergang members outside the Daily Planet building. He’d spent his whole life keeping anger at bay, but right now, he wanted to punch something so badly. He couldn’t believe it; the life that he had built for himself was gone. Within hours of his career’s highest note so far, now he was going to be in the obituary section of his own newspaper.

He turned and he grasped the metal frame of the hospital bed and it twisted in his hands. The sound of it twisting was satisfying. He heard the sickbay doors open, but there was only silence. He took a deep breath, and said ruefully, “I’m sorry about the bed, Doctor.”

The subdued but comforting voice he knew so well replied, “A bed can be replaced, you can’t.” 

Clark shook his head, and confessed distraughtly, “I don’t know what to do Bruce, where to go.”

He felt his friend’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. Then Bruce said, “Come home with me.”

He turned, and met his gaze. He saw sympathy and understanding mixed with expectation in his friend’s eyes. Clark tried to smile but it was a struggle, “I…”

Bruce’s brow creased, and then he urged, “It’s got to be better than your other choices right now, the Fortress or the…” then he shrugged, “I guess the farm would be your choice huh?”

Clark shook his head, and said, “No, I didn’t mean… your place sounds good at the moment.” He instinctively pulled his friend into a hug. He said earnestly, “Thank you.”

There was a moment’s hesitation and then Bruce returned the hug, and squeezed, soothingly tight. Clark smiled. He must seem like a total wreck for his no nonsense friend to indulge him this way.

~*~

They entered the kitchen of Wayne Manor, and for a moment, he felt like a stray dog that Bruce had found and brought home, and Alfred was going to tell him off, and say he couldn’t keep him. It was a crazy thought, he knew Alfred, and the older man had always been welcoming to him in that quiet sentry kind of way. 

The butler noticed their entry, and then he nodded to him, “My condolences, Mr Kent.”

He felt that tight smile return again, it was as much as he could muster; the words were quite apt for the circumstances. “Thank you Alfred.”

Everyone stood around awkwardly for a few moments, nobody sure, how to go about this new arrangement, and then Bruce asked, “Did you want to choose a bedroom or…”

The thought of choosing his own room instead of just being put in a guestroom suddenly made him feel even lower. It was the idea of having a long term room, the idea of being in limbo that long without his own place that made his optimism plummet again. He hesitated, but before he could find an answer, Alfred cleared his throat, and revealed, “If you don’t mind sir, I presumed to put your valuables in the cobalt room, it has an en suite bathroom, it is the largest unused bedroom, and sir it has south east facing windows. I thought you might enjoy the sunshine in the morning.”

Although he was normally out and at work by the time, the sun was that high in the sky, he was grateful for the well-meaning consideration the older man had put in for him. “That sounds great.”

Bruce agreed, “Thank you Alfred.”

“Certainly, sir.” he replied.

It took a moment to realise what Alfred had told him, and then he asked, “My valuables?”

His friend reached out, and patted his shoulder, “Lois and I went to your apartment, and sorted out your belongings. I brought the items we agreed were personal and you wouldn’t want to be without.”

“My apartment?” he asked a little dazed.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Was that anxiety that he heard in Bruce’s tone?

Reflexively, he soothed, “It’s fine, thank you… damn I can’t believe I have to leave my furniture there. I only bought a new couch a couple of months ago.” He scoffed. “But what would a dead man do with a couch.”

He saw Bruce’s keen eyes watching him, too stoic to reprimand him for being so flippant. Clark shook his head, and then tried to summon up some positivity. He said, “So who wants to show me this bedroom then?”

He saw Bruce and Alfred exchange glances, he wondered if he’d caused the unflappable guardian disquiet with his surly attitude when Bruce said, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

~*~

Upstairs at the head of the staircase, Bruce pointed to a door, “That’s Alfred’s room.”

Clark responded, “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I would’ve thought…”

He continued to walk him down the long hallway as Bruce nodded along understandingly, “You’re right, there are servant quarters, but he moved into this one after my parents died, to be nearby, you know.”

He rolled his eyes at himself; it would’ve been obvious if he’d thought about it any other day except today, with his head so messed up. He replied, “Yeah I know, sorry.”

His friend gazed at him but said nothing, then Bruce snorted under his breath, and carried on walking, at the end of the hall, he pointed, “That’s my bedroom.”

Then they turned a corner, and followed a long curved bannister. Down the centre, Clark saw the marbled entrance hall down at the bottom. They passed the staircase turning upward, he motioned to it, “When he’s here, Dick’s room is up a flight.”

They continued along the landing until they ended up at the door that faced Bruce’s door. Bruce stated, “This is the room that Alfred has chosen for you.”

He opened the door, and walked in. He knew how fancy Wayne Manor was; however, he’d visited here so many times, the cave, the kitchen, and the lounge, that he’d become blasé about it all. This bedroom was a stark reminder. It was a cross between a grand hotel, and a medieval castle, with heavy velvet curtains and oak wainscot panels and totally over the top compared to what Clark was used to. It smelled a mixture of must and furniture polish, as if it had just been refreshed. 

Bruce asked, “What do you think?”

Clark smirked, and asked, “Your bedroom’s not like this is it?”

Bruce smiled and began, “Come to my bed…” suddenly his smile faltered, and then he cut himself off. Clark frowned at him. Bruce cleared his throat, and continued, “Um… well it’s similar, but this one hasn’t been used in ages, my lifetime really, mine is more current and lived in I suppose.”

He noticed the walls and the décor and pursed his lips, “This one’s very blue.”

His friend snorted, “That’s why it’s the cobalt room. It suits you.”

Clark chuckled, “Does that mean your walls are black?”

Bruce met his gaze, and then he sniggered softly, “Actually they’re more like a soft burgundy.”

“Red for passion huh?” he teased.

Intense eyes stared at him. Clark began to wonder if his near death experience had done something to his perception, because his friend seemed to be acting so strangely. Maybe Bruce was regretting asking him to stay with him. He knew how much of an introverted person Bruce really was despite his public persona. Clark tilted his head in question. Bruce blinked slowly and then glanced away. Then he pointed at some suitcases on the bed. “Lois and I couldn’t decide about your clothes. I said to pack everything, but she wasn’t too sure.”

Clark followed his train of thought without him saying the words. He went over and he opened the cases, in one were his casual clothes, his jeans and shirts, and t-shirts, and his underwear. In the other were his work clothes, beige suits, and a couple of darker ones, white dress shirts and his ties. He reached out and touched the heap of cloth. He felt Bruce watching him again; he said to him over his shoulder, “I guess I won’t need these again.”

Bruce spoke quietly but encouragingly from behind him, “You’ve got to give it time Clark. You can’t make snap decisions; your emotions are running too high at the moment.”

He turned and he held out his arms, “Bruce, whatever happens, I can’t walk around dressed as a dead man.”

Shockingly, Bruce snapped angrily, “Will you stop saying that, you’re not dead, and you should be grateful for that just as I am!”

He stared at him, shocked into silence.

Then overawed Bruce shook his head, and then turned and walked out of the bedroom, leaving him there alone. 

After the shock of Bruce’s outburst had worn off, Clark glanced back at the suitcases. Then his eyes slid to the other items on the bed. One was a framed photograph of him and his parents, and next to it were his cell phone, and his glasses. Then he knew what he had to do. He took a seat on the bed. He picked up his phone and he dialled the number.

After a few rings, it was picked up, “Hello?”

He cringed, and then he uttered, “Hello Mom.”

He heard her suck in breath, “Clark, are you all right Sweetheart, Lois rang and told me what happened, Bruce kept me updated yesterday.”

He bowed his head and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. He hadn’t even realised that Bruce had talked to his mom. He admitted her, “I don’t know what to do Mom.”

“Do you need to come home Clark?” asked the woman who had presided over his safe haven his whole life.

The idea of returning to the farm at the moment felt like a step backwards. He knew if he went to the farm, he would have to keep hidden. He’d spent his life there hiding, hiding in plain sight but still managing to have a life. To go there now, he would really be in hiding. Here at Wayne Manor he had the luxury of the grounds with no visitors. He swallowed the lump in his throat thinking of Bruce being so solitary here. 

He took a breath and replied, “No, I’m going to be staying with Bruce until I can figure things out.”

“He cares a lot about you Sweetheart.” His mom sighed.

His brow creased with emotion, “I care about him too. He’s a good friend.”

~*~

When he ended the call, with the promise to stay in touch, he still had no clue what he was going to do, but at least he had a safe and comfortable place to get his head together. He glanced around the blue bedroom. It wasn’t going to be hard to live in such comfort. He had his friend to thank for that. His mom was right Bruce did care about him, he was a good friend; actually, he was the best friend.

~*~

He returned downstairs. He went in search of his friend. It wasn’t difficult to figure out where he might be. Over the years, he’d become a semi regular visitor, he knew the place better than anyone did that didn’t live here. He mentally amended that thought because now because of a quirk of fate, he did live here. He entered the cave by the stairs. He tried to be light hearted as he approached the dark but casually clothed figure in front of the computer station. “I guess it’s still true then, that if I ever have to find you, I know where you’ll be.”

He saw his friend tip his head in some sort of recognition though his eyes were on his computer monitor, and then he glanced around at him. He half smiled, “Did you think that I lay out by the pool when you’re not here, and rush in here so I’m ready when I know you’re coming.” 

He saw Bruce grimace at the end of that sentence but the reason eluded him. He frowned than shook it off. He sighed, “No, I know you too well to think that.” He came over; he couldn’t see another chair, so he sat himself down on thin air.

Bruce raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, they’d known each other long enough that what was weird to everyone else was normal to them. Clark grinned at that thought, and confessed, “I’m sorry about before but it’s so hard dealing with this…”

His friend blinked slowly, and finished, “Disappointment.”

Clark pinched his lips, and agreed, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry for shouting at you. It’s hard for me not knowing how to help you.” He said earnestly.

“You are helping me Bruce.” He winced and ran his hands through his hair, “Oh god, my life was as close to being perfect as it’s ever been, I had my apartment and my friends, my job – the biggest story of my career, and being Superman was going so well…” he said ruefully, “The only thing missing was someone to love.”

Bruce glanced away at his computer screen. Clark watched him, wondering if he just wanted to get back to solving whatever case he was working on. He knew if Bruce needed his help, he’d ask him. He was just about to excuse himself when Bruce began speaking, his eyes moved away from the screen but he didn’t meet Clark’s eyes. “You still have most of those things. The apartment was bricks and mortar, you don’t have to worry you can stay here as long as you want. You still have your friends. The name Clark Kent can’t be used anymore but that doesn’t mean you have to stop writing, many writers use a nom de plume. Superman is unaffected by yesterday’s events, and…” His friend breathed slowly, he swallowed and then continued, “Love can come from where it’s least expected.”

He smiled softly, and teased, “Don’t tell me you’re a secret romantic under there.”

Bruce met his gaze fleetingly. “Love isn’t something that can be found by searching for it.”

He nodded along, “I suppose.” He took a deep breath, “It’s funny to think at the moment, I haven’t got a secret identity to worry about revealing to a prospective lover.”

Bruce snorted softly, “Superman is still your secret identity, and no matter what you call yourself, you’ll always be Clark to me.”

 

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Twain 3  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,642  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Both Clark and Bruce return from an evening out. 

~S~

After his promise to stay in touch, he was on the phone to his mom. She revealed sympathetically, “I saw the footage online.”

“I guess everyone did.” He replied wearily, though he himself hadn’t bothered to see it. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Mom.”

“Don’t be sorry Clark, it wasn’t your fault.” She rebuked softly.

“Um.” He hesitated knowing, it was his own fault for having blue K in his pocket, knowing only a few seconds later he would’ve been in Bruce’s car and free of it. 

“Don’t let them beat you.” his mom coaxed. “You’re tougher than that baby.” 

He swallowed hard.

“I heard from Lana and Pete, you know, they saw it too and they wanted to make sure, you know.”

He nodded though she couldn’t see him; it was nice to know his old friends and secret keepers still cared though he hadn’t spoken to them in a while. He said, “That was good of them.”

“They won’t be coming to the funeral.” She revealed.

He sighed, “I can understand that.”

“They’d have come if it was real, that goes without saying.” His mom reasoned.

“Yeah.” He agreed.

“I don’t have that luxury.” Then she asked indignantly. “Did they catch the bastards that did this yet?” 

At any other time, he would’ve been shocked by his mother cussing, but not today. “The Metropolis PD has rounded up some suspects, but it’s going to be hard to prove.”

There was another long drawn out silence. It was strange to be struggling to find words to speak to his own mother. Then his mom uttered, “Reverend Charles came around, asking about the funeral arrangements.”

He bowed his head; he didn’t know what to tell her. “I don’t know Mom, I can’t believe after everything it’s come to this.”

“I’m just happy I only have to pretend to be grieving for my son.” She said with a little cheer in her voice.

He uttered, “Bruce said something similar.”

“Well he’s right, and we’ve all got to find a way to move on.” She coaxed.

That’s the conclusion that he’d come to a few nights ago after speaking to her before, but in the stark light of day, that conviction had fade a little. “Mom, I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to pretend to be anyone else.” he revealed tiredly. 

“Listen to me Clark Joseph Kent…” she began in that scolding motherly tone.

“Mom…” he sighed.

“Listen, the people of his world have seen you in so many ways, by so many names, Kal-El of Krypton, the Red-Blue Blur, Superman and Clark Kent, and you know what all of them have in common huh, they’re all my son, and whatever you figure out, whatever you’re gonna do, you’re still going to be my son. Do you hear me?”

He smiled despite himself, “Yes Ma’am.”

“Now I’ve got to go, and prepare a funeral for an empty coffin.”

He smiled into the phone, “I love you Mom.”

“I love you too Sweetheart.”

He pressed the button on his phone to end the call. His mom was right; he couldn’t let this defeat him.

He picked himself up, and finally set about putting his things away, the task that he’d been putting off. He even hanged up his three-piece suits in the walk-in wardrobe. He found his uniform among the stuff. He gazed at it, and he fingered the House of El shield. To think if he’d been wearing it the other day, it would’ve been destroyed without his powers to protect it. 

He’d spent his time creating two lives, which from the outside might not be enviable. The stainless steel Kryptonian hero without a personal life as far as the general public were concerned, and a nerdy journalist, whose only part of his life that he was good at was his job, but those two lives together as they truly was, was a great life, the best of both worlds. Now he had only one of those lives untouched. He laid his uniform on the chair in the corner; there was no need to hide it here, in the safety of Wayne Manor.

His gaze found it again, and then his eyes strayed to outside the window.

~B~

With the dampness of perspiration sticky on his bare skin, he waited silently, staring at the bedroom ceiling, until her breaths evened out, and he knew that she was asleep. Guilt was like a shadow in the bedroom. He knew he’d been a little overzealous tonight, though Julie hadn’t seemed to mind his passion in the least. He slipped out from beneath the sheets, and walked naked to the bathroom. He set the shower and stepped in. As the hot spray hit his back, he hissed as it aggravated the scratches that her long nails had dug into his back. He bore the pain, welcoming it. 

He returned from the bathroom after quickly drying himself, and then he walked around, picking up his clothes, and putting them on as he went. Finally, he took a last glance at the exhausted woman on the bed, and then he slipped away into the night.

He drove back from Gotham to the Manor. As he watched the streetlights pass, he contemplated going out on patrol. He didn’t have anything specific on, his focus the last couple of days had been trying to tie the suspects to the actual act of the gangland killing of Clark Kent. Following CCTV footage, he’d traced the vehicle; the actual car had been stolen from a couple of decent law-abiding Metropolis citizens it turned out. The police found no fingerprints, and the likely suspects were now under the scrutiny of MPD, a friend of the reporter, Sgt Dan Turpin was trying his best to throw the book at the gang members, that he’d taken into the interrogation room.

As he got back, he parked his car up in the garage, and then he made his way upstairs to his own bedroom.

The frustration of being stymied, and the close proximity of his friend, in the very same house, was what caused his need to let off some steam tonight. He shook his head at himself; he’d invited him, and truth be told Bruce wouldn’t have it any other way right now. His friend needed him right now; the strength of his feelings was his own cross to bear. He entered his bedroom and shrugged off his jacket, and then unbuttoned his shirt, and then he slipped that off his shoulders too, and tossed it onto the bed. As he reached for his zipper, there was a rapping on his French windows that led out onto his balcony. He frowned but without being too concerned, he walked over, and opened the doors to the red, blue, and gold wearing figure. Superman grinned, “Hi.”

Seeing that happy smile after so many days of unhappiness pouring from his friend made Bruce’s breath tremor, but he managed to answer normally, “Hey what are you doing out here.”

His friend motioned and then entered Bruce’s bedroom, his invitation taken for granted, which it was. Bruce raised a brow, and then closed the doors behind them. He turned to find Clark was taking inventory of his bedroom.

He turned and realised that Bruce was waiting for his attention, “It’s nice in here.” He commented and then he revealed, “Well, I was going to go straight to my room but I noticed you were back already.”

Bruce nodded and confirmed, “Just got back.”

Clark grinned again, “So did I. God Bruce, I’ve just been flying around tonight, and doing my thing you know. It’s the first time since you know what happened, that I’ve felt that there was still some joy left in my life.”

It was so great seeing Clark happy and smiling again. He’d wondered if the setback had taken his spark away, but here it was lighting up Bruce’s bedroom. Damn, he always looked so beautiful when he smiled. 

His gaze lingered. 

He saw Clark’s eyes flare and suddenly sweep down his torso, noticing his bare chest and biceps and forearms, the button on his pants unfastened. He saw a tiny crease come to his forehead, and then his full lips opened a touch. Bruce felt like he was standing in the beam of a spotlight, and for the first time, he wondered if Clark was possibly checking him out. 

Then his friend snorted so softly, barely audible and then he said, “I think this might be the first time I’ve ever seen you like this.” He met his gaze silently, unwilling to give anything away by reacting to those words. Again, Clark snorted softly. 

Even though he spent much of his time being under scrutiny, he couldn’t stand to be under his particular spotlight any longer, and he turned, and he grabbed his shirt to put it back on. As he turned, Clark hissed in sympathy, “Boy, she really got your back huh?”

Bruce stopped suddenly, and turned in surprise, he asked, “How…?” he couldn’t get any more words to come out. He slipped the shirt on but didn’t button it up.

His friend blushed slightly, then raised his eyebrow with amusement, and then admitted, “Tonight I wondered where you were, I did a quick scan with my hearing to find you …” he shrugged, “Well, I found you.” He watched him lick his lips, before commenting, “Bit of a screamer huh?”

There was a war of feelings brewing inside Bruce. There was arousal at the thought of Clark hearing that. His friend hearing how good he was at making someone come made him feel prideful. He felt shock because he never expected Clark to comment so explicitly, on what he had heard. Then mixed with all that was frustration borne on the fact, he hadn’t been with the person he actually wanted to be with, the person he knew he would have to go out on a limb, put himself out there, to confess all to if he had any chance of truly having him. 

He chucked himself off the rooftops of buildings, and faced down maniacs, but he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to tell him that. If he ever got what he wanted, he very much doubted that his friend would be a screamer.

He came out of his internal rambling to find Clark was still looking at him. Then his friend glanced down, and away, and then he went and sat down on Bruce’s bed. He watched him lean back slightly; he watched the snugness of the blue fabric over tight muscles contrasted by the red cape spread out beneath him. He had the urge to shout at him to get off his bed, get off it until he wanted to get in it, naked and underneath him.

But he didn’t, and Clark was many things, had great powers but he wasn’t a mind reader, so he leaned back some more. Then he asked, “Can I tell you something Bruce?”

Bruce sighed internally, for all of his desires, they were nothing compared to the rest of his feelings for Clark. He walked over and sat down on the bed beside him. As the dutiful friend, he stated, “Of course you can, anything Clark.”

“It’s kind of personal.” Clark said unsurely.

“Go ahead.” He urged curiously.

He watched Clark take a deep breath, his nostrils flaring a little. He licked his lips, and Bruce wished he’d stop being so innocently taunting. Then Clark uttered, “Tonight, being out there, and enjoying myself so much, I really considered leaving it at that, you know.”

Catching his train of thought immediately, as he usually did, he questioned, “You mean just being Superman all the time?”

“Yeah, I’d get so much more done.” He said.

Bruce replied, “I spend more of my time than any of us focusing on the mission, and there’s always more to do.”

His friend nodded, “That’s true but…”

Playing devil’s advocate, he said, “You have all these incredible abilities but you still couldn’t do everything, there’d still be accidents, deaths, and disasters that you couldn’t get to, there’s too many people, too much happening all the time, in every part of the world, and you’re just one man.” His gaze got caught so close, and he whispered, “One super man.”

Clark smiled, “I know, I had to teach myself that when I first started actively looking for people to save; I knew I could never be everywhere at once. I taught myself to decipher the tell-tale signs whether or not whatever was happening needed my abilities and couldn’t be solved by the ordinary heroes of the world, the police, the fire department, search, and rescue.”

“However you still considered giving it a try tonight?”

“I suppose I thought it would be easier than trying to find my niche again. Working at the Planet gave me so much, accomplishment on a personal level, and people - friends to share my day with; I’m going to miss that.”

He wanted to reassure him, that he could still have that, but he knew he wasn’t the kind of friend you hanged around the coffee machine and gossiped with. He surmised, “You considered it, but decided against it?”

Clark sighed, “Yeah, I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know I can’t be Superman all the time, I’d be pretending to be something I’m not, there would be no room for me and I couldn’t stand to…”

Bruce leaned in unconsciously, curiously waiting for him to continue.

His friend glanced up; his nostrils flared again. He murmured, “I can smell it on you, you know.”

He narrowed his gaze in question, and Clark revealed, “The sex.”

Bruce’s eyes widened at the words.

Clark nodded, “I can smell your aftershave, and the body wash that you used afterwards, but I can still smell the sex.”

He breathed erratically, “Clark.”

His friend licked his lips unconsciously, “Hearing you tonight, you and her, I realised that I couldn’t have that if I was flying around being the unattainable Superman all the time.”

He wanted to deny his words, wanted to tell him that he could have it anytime that he wanted, he could have it right now on this bed if he wanted. He gazed intently at his friend’s so pretty mouth, and he wanted to take it. Then innocuously Clark smiled, “I’ve always tried to project this wholesome image, it’s mostly true. I could never pick up women as Superman.”

He murmured, “I bet there’s plenty people that would queue up; that’d die for the chance at Superman.”

Clark blushed prettily, “Maybe but it wouldn’t be real, it wouldn’t be me that they wanted, and I don’t want someone who doesn’t want all of me, the superhero and the homespun nerd.”

Bruce chuckled softly.

His friend laughed too. “Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know, tomorrow is day one in the search for the new me.” 

“It might not be easy.” He warned.

“Nothing worth the effort is.” He proclaimed.

Clark hauled himself up, and stood up. He headed for the door, and opened it. Just before he stepped out onto the landing, he turned back, he glanced over Bruce’s bare chested form slouching on his bed, and he uttered with a cheeky smile, “I guess all that hard work in the training room pays off huh.”

He left the room before Bruce could respond, and Bruce let himself fall back on the bed. Then silently, keenly aware of his super-hearing friend, he groaned inwardly, ‘Oh fuck.’

 

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Twain 4  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,541  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark makes a shocking revelation, and then Clark is shocked further.

~S~

Clark lay in his bed in his new bedroom, he was slowly getting used to this being his space, at least for the time being. It was strange to think that Bruce was basically across the hallway, though of course it was quite a long hallway. It had been a very strange but exhilarating night. As he’d told his friend, he had rediscovered the course for his life, he didn’t know where that path would take him, but at least he could face it with some kind of determination. Telling anyone other than Bruce, he might have felt selfish for choosing to keep both halves of his life intact. 

Other people might not understand; he’d heard it from the mouths of people who had a grudge against anyone different, time and again. However, would those people believe that a cop, or a fireman or a doctor shouldn’t have a life outside their calling? He doubted that many people would deny them that, and though it was for his own benefit, he believed he deserved that right to a personal life too. 

In the darkness of his room, he felt his colour rise on his face, as he remembered how he had clumsily told Bruce. He wished he’d thought his words through and put the idea forward as he had just thought it, instead of talking about sex. God! What an embarrassing way to put it across. He hadn’t even intended to mention that he had accidently heard Bruce and his lady friend in the throes of passion. Yet seeing those scratches on Bruce’s muscular back, and because of his olfactory powers being hit by the heady aroma of expensive aftershave, heather scented body wash, and the lingering traces of his and her juices mixed together had caused the words to come tumbling out. 

He felt the cotton bedclothes glancing over his rapidly sensitive skin, the smooth rub. 

His memory returned to tonight, he’d been miles away but his hearing had easily found the rhythmic sound of his friend’s heartbeat, the timbre of his voice. He discovered the sound of the woman whimpering with pleasure as Bruce took her as Bruce’s smooth voice turned into tight-lipped grunts as he thrust into her. He hadn’t let his hearing linger, and he certainly didn’t invade their privacy, but it sounded as though Bruce was trying his damnedest to keep his cries to a minimum, reining himself in even as his body did the opposite making wet sounds of impact. He remembered hearing her scream breathily ‘Bruce’ over and over again, but he didn’t know who the lady was because Bruce hadn’t cried out her name in return. 

He had never let himself think of Bruce like that, but if he had, with his playboy reputation, Clark would’ve expected a more subtle, even worshipful kind of sensuality, not the raw abandon that he heard tonight. 

Clark breathed out slowly; he really shouldn’t be doing this, thinking about this. It was just surprising, and what else was surprising was his own reaction to seeing his friend’s body tonight in his bedroom. Apart from some scarring, Bruce it turned out had a really great body. It was muscular and strong, yet athletic and not bulky. 

For a shocking moment, Clark wondered what it would take to make Bruce let loose that tight rein, what would it take to make Bruce verbalise his passion; make him cry out his lover’s name. 

He groaned at his own thoughts, Bruce was his friend, and he shouldn’t be even thinking these kinds of thoughts about him, even if it was in the privacy of his own darkened bedroom, or maybe even more so because of where he was.

He turned over and gave his pillow a shake, and then settled down again. As he’d told Bruce, tomorrow he was going to begin his quest for a new identity, a new life that would fulfil him and give him everything he’d ever wanted. It wasn’t the best time to start thinking about Bruce as anything other than a really valued and great friend. He closed his eyes, eager for the morning.

~*~

The following morning, Clark toured the Manor, giving himself time to relax and think about the future and his options for that future. He felt as though he was in sophomore year of high school again, and being asked by the principal where he saw himself in five years’ time. 

He’d been lost back then trying to figure out what being an alien meant to his life. He still hadn’t known what kind of alien he was. It had been a while later that he had learnt the word Kryptonian, or heard the name Kal-El. Finally, after thinking about it for a few days that kid had realised that in five years that he wanted to be at college studying journalism. He hadn’t known that within that five years’ time his dad would be dead and he would be lost again, trying to find his way without him. 

In the present, Clark found himself drawn to the books in the Wayne Manor library. 

He glanced up as Alfred opened the library door, and announced, “Mr Kent, you have a visitor, Miss Lane.”

“Thanks Alfred.” he replied.

As Alfred left, his ex-desk-mate entered the library. He smiled reflexively when he saw her. He put down the book that he was browsing and approached her. She grinned in return, and they drew each other into a hug. Lois sighed, “I miss you, and it’s only been a few days as well.”

Earnestly, he replied, “I miss you too, and Jimmy and Perry.” He pulled back and winced, “How are they holding up?”

Her pretty face twisted into a cringe. “Perry’s being all tough and mature, but Jimmy keeps breaking down, and everyone is looking at me, expecting me to collapse into tears too.” Clark smiled tightly. Lois shrugged, “It’s hard. I’ve never been as good as you or your other friend at putting an act on.”

“So what do you do?” he wondered.

“I excuse myself and I go back to our… crap my office…” he saw the tears well up in her eyes, “You might not be dead, but I’ve lost you anyway.”

He cupped her face in his hands, “Lois, we’re always going to be friends. It’s like my mom told me, it doesn’t matter what I call myself, I’m still going to be there for you somehow, even if it’s not facing each other over that desk.”

She smiled teary eyed and nodded, she smiled, “Talking of keeping up appearances, I thought we didn’t have any secrets Smallville.”

He smiled but shook his head in bafflement, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“No wonder you came here after what happened.” she commented.

She hadn’t answered the question and Clark was still confused. “It surprised me when Bruce suggested it, but I thought it was a good idea and…”

“It was, and I’ve got no doubt he’ll take good care of you.” Lois said with obvious feeling.

He frowned at the words, unable to get the gist of what his friend was actually saying. For a second, he was reminded of how he felt arriving here, feeling like a stray dog. It sounded like Lois was implying the same thing, but he got the feeling that wasn’t it. He remembered his mom telling him how much Bruce cared about him. He gazed at his friend not really knowing how to respond.

Then Lois shook her own head, “The whole situation was crazy to begin with, and then… I’ve never seen him that close to helplessness.”

An itch began at the back of his mind. He didn’t even want to give any of it a voice, even in his own mind, until he could be alone and work through it. He pinched his lips, and he said, “These last few days, I’ve felt helpless too, but I’ve made a choice, and I’m going to find a way of discovering a new path, it might be scary but...”

There was optimism on Lois’ face, as she nodded along, “But as long as Bruce is beside you, you can do it, can’t you Clark.”

That was perfectly true, but that itch suddenly got worse.

Then all of a sudden, Lois sprang away, “Wait there.” she went to the door, disappeared for a moment, and then returned with a box of stuff. She carried it and then put it on the desk. “This is your personal stuff from the office, and your laptop.”

He commented, “Thanks, I was only supposed to be going out for lunch.”

“With Bruce…?”

“Yeah, he was taking me to Chateau Bleu.”

“Wow, that’s the best joint in Metropolis.” She said with envy.

He chuckled, “Yeah that’s what I thought. We just never got there.”

At break neck speed, she changed course, and said, “Turpin has…”

He nodded, “I know, I’m being well informed.”

His friend grinned, and bounced on her toes for a moment. She asked, “Have you been informed, that Clark Kent is being posthumously nominated for a Pulitzer for his gangland series?”

It should’ve been the greatest moment of his career, but he was overwhelmed with the defeat that his life had just been dealt. He fought back the tears that threatened to show. He struggled but croaked out, “That’s really great.”

In reflection and with sympathy, Lois teared back up, and she pulled him back into a hug. “It’s going to be fine Smallville, just fine. It’s just a setback.”

He held her to him, and tried to find solace in her arms.

~*~

A while later, after Lois had gone home to Metropolis, with the promise that Superman would visit her soon, that itch at the back of his mind came to the fore. He wasn’t apprehensive, however he felt the shadow of the unknown beckon him. It drew him down the secret staircase, and into the cave. Bruce wasn’t down there, but Bruce wasn’t the reason he was here, well not completely. He didn’t want to see him until he had satisfied his own suspicions. 

He took the seat at the computer station. He hadn’t been curious, he hadn’t wanted to see it, but now he felt he had to. The two women who meant the most to him had implied something, something they had seemingly expected him to understand and acknowledge. He let his fingers move over the keyboard, and he found one and brought up the video footage, filmed by people on the street at the time of his shooting.

It played.

It began after the gunshots, after the car had sped away. There was a commotion and there was a women screaming in the background. Then it focused down, and the sight of his own blood soaked body filled the screen. He saw his glasses had managed to stay on somehow, not that anyone would really recognise a shot up body on the street as Superman anyway. He heard people talking, saying someone should call the paramedics, one person even wondered aloud where Superman was.

Clark smiled grimly, if there was one person that Superman couldn’t have saved at that moment then that would be Clark Kent.

After focusing on everything else, he rewound the footage and he let his eyes focus on the figure that had been there all along, that a part of him wanted to ignore, because after the first seconds, it was obvious that once he focused on it and acknowledged it, there would be no not seeing it afterwards. 

He saw his friend, his best friend, the most important living breathing man in his life. He looked small, and horror stricken and he was almost unrecognisable as Bruce Wayne and definitely unrecognisable as the Batman, his tough and stoic friend. He wondered if anyone had actually recognised the man as the playboy Bruce Wayne. It was crazy, because why would the dilettante Bruce Wayne be grasping and holding onto a bullet ridden body on a sidewalk in Metropolis. Why would the womanizer Bruce Wayne be quietly crying, begging another man not to leave him? Not that anyone without super hearing would be able to hear the words. 

He watched closely, and saw him reach into Clark’s pocket; he saw the inner struggle in his whole frame not to get rid of the blue Kryptonite. He saw his hand relax as he made a choice. He saw him get his phone; he heard the code whispered, so the crowd around them didn’t hear. He saw the despair in his eyes as he put down the phone and then hug his bleeding body. 

Then the camera’s focus was stolen when Flash arrived. He watched, as Barry had to force Bruce verbally to let him take his body.

The last seconds, were as Flash sped away, and the footage ended with a blood soaked emotionally distraught man sitting in a pool of blood on the sidewalk.

Clark pressed pause on the footage, and stared silently at the picture on the huge screen. There was too much to think about, too much to feel, just too much. With terrible curiosity, he wondered if that was a replica, an echo of that night in that Gotham alley so many years ago. Is that what Bruce looked like as a boy, sitting in his parents' pool of blood. 

Is that what the tragedy of this incident was, the grief haunting Bruce refreshed? Was that the look on his face or was that pain solely for him? Was that Bruce in the moment, fresh and raw? Was that grief only for him?

The truth of either answer tore at Clark’s heart. His own tears fell from his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, gathered at his jawline and then dripped off. 

He heard the voices of his nearest and dearest echoing in his mind. ‘He cares a lot about you Sweetheart.’ ‘But as long as Bruce is beside you, you can do it, can’t you, Clark.’ ‘I thought we didn’t have any secrets Smallville.’ The words replayed in his mind, and took on a whole new meaning. 

He echoed aloud, “I thought we didn’t have any secrets, B.”

From behind him, a rough voice spoke, “It wasn’t a secret. I just hadn’t found the courage to tell you yet.”

Clark turned, and he found his friend in full Batman attire approaching from another level of the cave. Mutely, Clark watched him come closer. He knew he must’ve been drawn to the main area of the cave by the sound of the footage. He imagined Bruce observing silently as Clark watched the footage. Watched on helplessly, as Clark had put the pieces together and discovered his secret. 

Bruce's eyes betrayed him, fear mixed with resolve. Then Batman reached out, and used his gloved thumb to wipe away Clark’s tears. At odds with his dark visage, as Batman’s thumb caressed his tear stained face, he beseeched softly “Don’t cry please.”

 

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: Twain 5  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,527  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce hear a story, and Clark has something to reveal too.

~S~

He didn’t know how to respond, he had always understood that his friend liked him, even if he didn’t express it as an ordinary person would, he got it because he wasn’t ordinary either, however he hadn’t known Bruce cared for him like that or so terribly much. 

Before any words could be exchanged between them, he felt the air in the cave change, before it crackled with a sunburst of energy, he jumped up to stand at Batman’s side as in the space in front of them, reality twisted and then a portal opened up inside the cave. Clark tensed ready, and he felt Batman do the same. The warning sirens went off at the breach and echoed around the cave.

Then out of the portal, a solitary figure stepped out. The black clad figure with a chest adorned in a bat surrounded by gold saw them at the same time that they saw him. The portal continued to swirl behind him, as the cowl wearing figure’s mouth betrayed his relief. He nodded, “Thank god, you’re both here. It worked.”

The man stepped forward and instinctively Clark took a defensive position in front of his friend. The other Batman smiled brokenly, “I see I’ve definitely found the right ones.”

His own Batman grumbled. He knew Bruce didn’t approve of him putting himself between others and danger, especially him, but it was instinctive for Clark to protect people even when they were as tough as Batman was. Then he stepped from behind him, and demanded of his mirror image, “Who are you, what do you want?”

The alternate reality Batman took a deep breath and replied, “I need your help.”

Hearing someone in need, Clark automatically asked, “What do you need?”

The portal jumping Batman said, “I need you to come with me, he’s dying and I can’t do anything to stop it, I’ve tried. I need you to save him.”

“Who?” beside him his friend asked gruffly.

“It’s my brother Clark.” In surprise, Clark and Bruce glanced at each other at the news. He continued, “Please say you will come.” He must’ve read Bruce’s sceptical expression, because he added with an outstretched hand, “Here, it’s the incantation to open and close the portal. Take it, and be safe in knowing you can leave at any time.”

Though it was true that not every dimension had a heroic version of them, just by his candour and his desperation, he thought they could take a chance and trust him. Clark leaned in towards his friend’s cowl covered ear and he said, “Helping people is what we do, and if we can’t help ourselves or at least…”

His friend winced, but concurred, “I know.”

They turned to see the other Batman looking on, understanding there in his eyes, that they had just agreed to help him and his brother. There was movement at the head of the stone steps, and Alfred appeared armed and ready.

The other Batman called, “Hello Alfred it’s good to see you.”

His Batman nodded to his guardian, “Someone needs our help, and we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Then they set off together, Batman snatched the incantation spell from the other’s grasp, just as they all entered the portal.

~B~

They exited the portal still inside the cave, but he knew it wasn’t his cave. There were differences apparently obvious at first glance. The main differences were that there was two black vehicles on the plinth, and over in the alcove there were double sets of Batsuits with only minor differences of styling between the pair, one had metallic cobalt blue accents, and utility belt, while the other had gold. Though there were back up suits, he noted that one was missing of the pair and the other was still in the case. He knew this other version of Bruce Wayne was wearing that gold accented suit. As he took note, his friend walked over to the case. Always on the same wavelength as him, he saw Clark smile unconsciously, as he traced the other suit through the glass, and he asked over his shoulder, “This one is your brother’s?”

He watched as the other pulled down his cowl, and then walked over, saying, “Yes, my brother has always liked blue.”

Usually, he wouldn’t have been so eager to step into the unknown without more facts, and maybe it was a cowardly thing to do, but it seemed safer and less scary than confronting the unknown, and finding out what his friend thought of his discovery. It had been a relief and terrifying all at the same time to find Clark in the cave watching the footage, which was proof of the depth of his… Damn, he wasn’t going to think about this, they had a mission now, and that’s what they had to concentrate their minds on.

Clark looked enormously happy seeing the black and blue suit. He snorted, “Very cool.” His friend turned and raised an eyebrow at him, and Batman shook his head, though he was happy to see Clark’s tears had dried.

~*~

His alternate led Clark and himself up the stone steps, and they all headed up into this alternate universe Wayne Manor. Up there, he noticed there was hardly any difference at all, the ornaments and the paintings and the wall paper was all the same. They were led up the grand staircase, and then to the cobalt room. The other version of him, motioned, “This is my brother’s room, mine’s over there.” pointing at his own bedroom door. “All our lives, we’ve never been too far apart. We used to share a room when we were kids.” He explained.

He opened the door, and led them inside. He found the décor much updated and modern, signs that this was and for a long time had been a permanent bedroom. Then they found a familiar silver haired figure sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, the older man looked back over his shoulder as they entered. Clark and Bruce exchanged a quick glance. Then the alternate Alfred Pennyworth stood up, glancing from the strangers to his Master Bruce. “You found the ones to help?”

His alternate nodded, “Zatara said the spell would find the right ones.”

“The right ones?” Batman questioned.

Bruce nodded, “Yes, our friend said it would take me to the world where the ones who could understand the most, and be willing to help us were.”

Clark stepped forward, “I need to know what you need from us first.”

Alfred’s mask of reserve faltered, and he said with need mixed with hope, “It’s Master Clark, he’s dying.”

The older man stepped aside, and the figure on the bed came into view. For a second, his breath caught, the still body and the so pale flesh, made him flashback to seeing his own Clark on the sick bay bed, and just like then this Clark looked like he could be dead already.

Then blue eyes opened slowly, as if it was almost too much effort to open them. Then he breathed, “Bruce?”

The other Bruce rushed to the bed, and sat down and took his brother’s hand, “I’m here, and I’ve brought help.”

Blue tinged lips, quirked at the edges, “I think it’s too late.”

Bruce’s voice was tumultuous, but quiet, “No, you’re not leaving me Clark, please say you won’t leave me.”

The desperation was clear in his voice, as was the love that they shared. Suddenly, he felt like he was in that spotlight again, felt the warmth of his gaze, and he turned, and found Clark’s eyes on him, his revelations and questions still burning there waiting to be answered. He took a breath; those answers were going to have to wait. Right now, they needed other answers to fulfil this mission.

He met Alfred’s gaze, “I think you have a story to tell us.”

The alternate Alfred’s keen eyes glanced between them, and then he nodded his agreement. He began, “I do not know the differences between our worlds, but to see you two together makes me assume it cannot be too different. Are your parents alive, having your father here would be…?”

Clark and Bruce exchanged glances, he saw Clark’s gaze stray to the brothers, one sick, the other grieving for his loss already. “Do you mean my father?” Clark asked.

Bruce finished, “Or if you mean Thomas Wayne, then he died when I was a boy.”

From the bed, the dying Clark Wayne asked weakly, “You’re not brothers?”

Clark shook his head, “No, our relationship is strong, but not in that way.” Bruce watched his friend, wondering if Clark still meant that after his revelation before. Clark asked his own question, “Did the Wayne’s find your ship?”

He saw confusion appear on both the brothers’ faces. Alfred though appeared shrewder. Bruce repeated his original request, “You better tell us the story, so we know all know where we stand.”

The guardian sighed and then took a seat on a chair positioned near the bed. He glanced at his two wards, and then returned his careworn eyes to their visitors. “The beginning of the story was thirty years ago. The Wayne family, Thomas and his wife Martha and their little son Bruce were visiting Metropolis. Dr Wayne was to attend a medical conference there. I drove them to the city; it was one of my first duties of my new employment. All was going well, until we got into a traffic jam, the bridge over the river was dug up for maintenance and we were detoured, we ended up entering Metropolis from an altogether different direction. We came across a car accident, there was a lorry, or as American’s say a semi, the other vehicle was a pickup truck.”

Bruce’s eyes found Clark’s as Clark’s found his with horror filled understanding, “A red pickup?” Clark wondered.

“That is correct.” Alfred confirmed.

Alfred continued stoically, “Dr Wayne demanded that I stop the car. He rushed to the scene, always the physician. Sadly, the female passenger took the brunt of the crash, and was already dead. The male driver was still alive yet barely. Mrs Wayne told me to watch young Master Bruce, and she went to help her husband. She revealed later, that the man was crushed and pinned by his own steering wheel, and he wept the name Martha. It touched her so, because that was her name. Mrs Wayne tried to comfort him, but he knew he wasn’t going to survive, and he begged her to get Clark and to take him with her and keep him safe. After moments of confusion, she found the little boy, squeezed between the two bodies. She managed to get him out, and remarkably, he was uninjured. She promised the man she would care for him moments before he died too.”

Clark asked his voice strained with emotion, “What were they doing in Metropolis?”

“In the wreckage the Wayne’s found adoption documents from an address in Metropolis, they assumed they were bringing the lad home with them.”

He watched his friend bow his head and Bruce reached out and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, “Remember they weren’t yours, you had yours.”

His friend glanced up, and nodded, “I know I just feel so sad for them, for Clark.”

From the bed, Clark Wayne spoke, “I don’t remember them, I was too young, but they were your parents?” Clark Kent nodded with a jaw tensed against the emotion. The ill man on the bed wondered, “Were they good people?”

Clark replied, “They were the best.”

Bruce rubbed Clark’s shoulder, before self-consciously dropping his hand away. Then he said to Alfred, “Please continue.”

Alfred nodded, “Based solely on that promise, Mrs Wayne convinced Dr Wayne to call the police to report the accident, but to secret the boy into our car, and take him home with us. If the boy was adopted, and his adopted parents were dead then he must have no relatives she deduced.”

Clark confirmed, “I didn’t. It was just them.”

The butler took a relieved breath at the news. Then he continued, “They brought him home, and the Wayne’s fell in love with him, we all did here, and he became their real son.”

Clark Wayne’s brother proclaimed solemnly, “He is my real brother.”

He glanced over the other Batsuit, and remembering the matching one down in the cave, assuming the origin of the need for those uniforms, he said, “Your parents are dead now, killed.”

The brothers grimaced together, and Alfred said tensely, “That is correct, because of my loyalty to the family I was named guardian in their wills. Their uncle Philip tried to fight it. Philip was greedy, and wanted to squander their fortunes. Eventually he went away with his tail between his legs.”

He felt Clark’s eyes on him, but he didn’t acknowledge him. But Alfred carried on, “I’ve done my best for both the young masters.”

He reassured, “If you did as well as my Alfred, you did well enough.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Clark interjected. “All that’s great, and everything, but can you explain to me why Clark is sick?”

“I think it’s the medicine.” The other Bruce Wayne replied.

He frowned and asked, “Medicine, what kind of medicine?”

Alfred appeared sheepish, and then answered, “It all began as the boys got a little older, and the nanny kept finding bruises on Master Bruce. We didn’t know what to make of them; Dr Wayne did a series of tests on Master Bruce, searching for a cause. It wasn’t until the day he ended up with a broken arm after the boys were arguing over a toy, that we realised it was Master Clark who was causing the bruises. We were all so worried about where it would all lead, so Dr Wayne began to research into Master Clark’s background. He found out that the place where his other parents were from had been hit by a meteor shower. He found out that the meteors could cause mutations. So he collected all different kinds of meteors up, and tested them. Among them, he found one of them that took away the strength cause by the mutation in Master Clark. He had all of it that could be found gathered up and he used the blue meteor to make a medicine. Every week since then Master Clark is given one of those injections.”

The other Bruce said, “The last one was just before Clark got sick.”

“Yes, he’s been bedridden since then.” Alfred added.

Beside him, his friend paled and then uttered, “Oh shit.” then he dived out of the room.

The others in the room looked shocked and perplexed at his reaction. He took a breath, “Give us a minute.”

 

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: Twain 6  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,661  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Now that Clark Wayne is on the mend, his brother as a question for Clark Kent.

~B~

Bruce walked out of the bedroom, and went after his friend. He found him sitting on the first step at the bottom of the grand staircase. He didn’t hesitate; he walked down and then sat down next to his friend. He saw that he was breathing heavily and there were tears shining in his exquisite eyes. Clark heaved, “God, Bruce they’ve been poisoning him every day… god I feel sick.”

“I know, but the thing is, they didn’t know.” He told him, “I think they did what they believed was for the best.”

“My parents had to deal with my powers, and sometimes it was hard, but they never gave up. They taught me how to deal with it, to be careful and gentle.” Clark told him.

He leaned in and comforted, “Your parents were special Clark, and it’s no excuse but the Kent’s had some idea of what they were dealing with, they knew you were probably from another planet.”

Clark cringed, “You know what this means, he doesn’t know anything about himself. He doesn’t know about being Kryptonian, or his powers or anything.”

Bruce snorted softly, “That explains the matching Batsuits.”

“Do you think they both ran off to Asia together?” he asked incredulously.

“I don’t know.” He confessed. “Maybe or maybe they had a different route to mine.”

His friend asked roughly, “What are we going to do, the only way to cure him, is to restore him back to full health, and that means he’ll have his powers without the experience to use them.”

“We’ll have to explain, and take it from there.” he assured his friend.

Clark nodded along. Then he gazed at him for a long moment, and then wondered, “You have an Uncle Philip?”

Bruce sighed and shrugged, “Yes, no, yes…” he shrugged again, “As far as I know my Uncle Philip wasn’t a wastrel, but he went on his travels before my parents were killed, and nobody has seen him since. He didn’t even come to the funeral. I think if he had shown up, he’d have been my guardian, but he didn’t, so it was left to dear Alfred.”

His friend smiled at the affectionate remark. Then Clark reached out, and tugged on the cowl, and Bruce reached up and released it. As his face was revealed, their gazes locked, and their eyes lingered too long on each other. Clark murmured, “B…”

They were too close for comfort. With his heart jumping with unease, Bruce deferred, “We have a mission.”

Clark nodded slowly with understanding, “Okay. Let’s get this done.”

They both stood up, and they made their way back up to the bedroom. They entered to find Clark Wayne looking sicklier and his brother caressing his forehead. They all turned their way, and Bruce motioned to his friend that he had the floor. Clark took a fortifying breath, and began, “This is going to be a shock. We believe we can heal you, but you’ve all got to understand the facts of what’s really happened and what will happen.”

The other Bruce Wayne said adamantly, “Whatever it is we can deal with it, together as always.”

Clark Kent walked closer to the bed, and met Clark Wayne’s eyes, “First, I believe that your dad was doing what he thought was for the best, but he was wrong.” 

The three men in the bedroom whose world this was, bristled at that statement, but undeterred Clark continued, “He was wrong. That strength you displayed as a little boy, it wasn’t a mutation, and it wasn’t supposed to be the end of your differences, it was just the beginning.” 

Then Clark reached out, and he picked up the corner of the wooden framed bed. He picked the whole thing up with both brother on-board and balanced it with ease. The three familiar strangers let out a cry of surprise. Clark revealed gently, “You were supposed to have that power, and others that were to follow.”

Then Clark Kent lowered the bed to the floor carefully.

“You’re not a mutant, you’re from a planet called Krypton, and the reason that you’re here is because the planet was destroyed. The couple in that pickup truck - the Kent’s, found your spaceship, and saved you and took you home with them. And on my world they brought me up, and loved me and taught me to use my powers to help people.”

There was utter disbelief and a touch of horror on Clark Wayne’s face. 

Clark Kent uttered softly, “I can see that on this world there’s no way that the Kent’s and your Kryptonian parents mean anything to you because you weren’t aware of them. That’s fine, I won’t judge, if your Bruce and your Alfred are as good and as steadfast as mine, I can understand, but what you’ve got to understand…” he glanced around at Alfred, and back to the other Bruce, “…is that the medicine you’ve been injecting, is actually poison, and that’s why you’re dying.”

The other Bruce said, “I was right, does that mean if he stops taking it, that he’ll be okay?”

Finally, he spoke up then, “I’ll have to take a sample of his blood to know, but it might take more than that, he has been under its radiation for a very long time. My Clark…” he tried to swallow his words. He glanced at his Clark self-consciously, “… he might have to donate some blood to give you a jumpstart.”

Unaffected by his use of possessive pronoun, Clark nodded along, “And that means either way, you will have the powers you were meant to have all along.”

~S~

He saw a fleeting look of terror in Clark Wayne’s eyes, before his brother pulled him sideways into a hug. It was obvious that he couldn’t be more pleased to save his brother’s life. He glanced at his Bruce and knew he’d feel the same in his position.

He could recognise the fear in counterpart’s eyes; he remembered the day his dad had took him to one side in the barn and told him the truth. When he’d found out that he was more than just different, that he was an alien to boot it had been devastating. The difference between him and his counterpart was that along with his feelings of being something other, he had also felt the thrill of using his powers before that day. Whether to race the bus to school because he’d missed it, or the mischief of seeing inside the girls locker room, totally by accident of course, or the pride of being able to help his dad work on the farm because of his strength. He reached out, and caressed Clark Wayne’s forehead, and reassured, “It will be alright.”

Only touching his skin made Clark’s energy levels drop, and for a moment, he felt dizzy. He glanced up, and found himself being held in strong caring arms. He uttered into his best friend’s ear, “There’s too much in his body.”

Bruce helped him step away, and over to the window. 

As he soaked in the energy giving rays of the sun, his friend asked aloud, “Do we need a test tube and a microscope or…”

Feeling better, he nodded along, catching his drift. But Alfred suggested, “Master Clark’s laboratory is down in the cave.”

He smiled at his counterpart, pleasantly surprised, “You’re a scientist?”

Clark Wayne nodded, “Yes, but Bruce is the weaponry expert, and we are equal in the detective work and the combat.” His brother snorted, and Clark Wayne hushed him, “Hey.”

Clark imagined that Jor-El would’ve been pleased that one version of his son had followed in his footsteps.

The other Bruce smirked fondly at his brother, and then turned to them, “What about you two?”

His Bruce chuckled, and then allowed, “We’re pretty similar, we’ve both got a working knowledge of science, we’re about equal on the detective work, and in combat we’re experts of our own different disciplines.”

The brother’s appeared pleased by the news, but Clark was a little shocked by his friend’s high regard. Bruce met his gaze, and he must’ve seen the surprise in his eyes because he shrugged, “It’s true, that’s why we’re so good together.”

He swallowed hard, Bruce had said he wanted to finish this mission before discussing their relationship, but here and now, he was revealing his until now secret feelings for him. That knowledge and the solar rays on his skin gave Clark a warm fuzzy feeling, he blinked slowly and smiled softly at his friend. 

He watched his Bruce swallow slowly in response.

Straight to business, Alfred asked, “Should I go and fetch a syringe and a test tube, sir?”

He turned his attention back the room, and said, “There’s no need, I can do it.”

“Do what?” asked the other Bruce.

He revealed, “It’s another of the powers that your brother is supposed to have. I have x-ray vision, which means I can see inside his body, and I have micro-vision which means I can see his blood at a microscopic level.”

From his seat on the bed, Bruce exclaimed softly to his brother while gazing at Clark, “Wow. You’re going to be incredible.”

Then he met his brother’s gaze, and Clark Wayne grimaced weakly, “I don’t… I want to stay the same. I want to still be by your side Bruce.”

He could understand the sentiment; there had been times in his life when all he’d wanted was to be normal. He sighed. After the upheaval in his own life lately, it was frustrating to be confronted by a version of himself who was also going through turmoil. However as his mom and Bruce had said, at least he wasn’t dead. And that’s exactly what Clark Wayne had to realise, his life would have to change but he still had that life, with his brother and Alfred to support him.

He walked away from the window, his strength renewed, and he focused his vision on the patient in his bed. He found that his blood was indeed compromised but luckily the blue Kryptonite hadn’t completely overpowered his blood, if the injections had continued he doubted there would be hope, but right now, there was. He let his vision returned to normal. He smiled with a lighter bearing. “I recommend bedrest and continuous daylight, until the patient is at full strength.”

There was a happy murmur around the bedroom, as hope filled their hearts.

“Are you sure?” Clark’s brother asked warily at such an easy solution to their crisis. It was just like Bruce Wayne to be sceptical.

He nodded with a smile, “I can’t see there being a problem.” He met his counterparts gaze, “We’ll hang around, and then I’ll give you a few lessons on how to use your new abilities.”

Clark Wayne nodded, but he didn’t look too certain.

His brother patted his brother’s shoulder, and then came over to Clark, and he hugged him, saying, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Clark patted his back, while meeting his own Bruce’s gaze over his shoulder.

~*~

They’d been visiting this parallel universe for most of the day; now he was sitting on the patio outside watching the sunset. Clark Wayne had done as he had suggested. After he had moved the bed in front of the windows, he had lay there all afternoon. He had suggested to his Bruce that maybe he should attempt to take Clark Wayne high into the atmosphere to get that extra boost of solar rays, but his friend had maintained that the process of healing should be slow, and give Clark Wayne the time to adjust and get used to the idea of having powers. He got the feeling that his friend felt that way because of the blue K infecting Clark Wayne's body impacting and draining his own powers. In the end, Clark had bowed to his friend’s suggestion. 

He knew his room faced south east, just has it did in their own reality, and the real boost would come in the morning when the sun shone directly into the windows. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of staying here overnight though. 

Bruce approached from behind him, and took up a seat beside him. He glanced over his attire, the Batsuit was gone, and he wore jeans and a polo shirt. His friend caught his look, and revealed, “My counterpart let me have these.”

He raised a brow, “Have, and not borrow?”

His friend flashed a smile so quick you had to have super-speed to see it, and joked, “You know billionaires; I doubt he needs them back.”

“Of course.” He humoured the billionaire. Then a thought came to him and he snorted, Bruce shot him a questioning look, and Clark explained, “I guess Bruce Wayne is only half as rich here, Clark Wayne is a billionaire too.”

His friend shook his head in fond frustration, and murmured teasingly, “If the money’s the same, there’s enough to share.”

Clark chuckled at his friend’s playfulness, finding he liked it. He tilted his head, and inquired, “You want to talk yet?”

Bruce tensed his jaw and uttered softly, “What I want…”

“Hey!” a familiar but at the same time strange voice called.

They glanced away from each other, and found the other Bruce Wayne coming towards them. Clark lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “Hey.”

The billionaire whose home this was came to stand in front of them, and smiled easily. 

Out here with no distractions, it was the first time Clark had really studied the alternate version of his friend. There were many similarities as you would expect, but one difference that he noticed was the way he carried himself, as well as the easy smile. He’d seen his Bruce act and put on a smile like that, but that’s exactly what it was an act when he did it. He got the feeling that having a brother with him every day of their lives had been a big influence, especially when their parents had died. They’d been there for each other, being a shoulder to lean on during those tough times. 

It made him wish he had been there for his Bruce like that, but he knew that would’ve meant losing the Kents and he could never wish that. 

With friendliness, the other Bruce Wayne said, “I’ve got a proposition for you.” 

His Bruce narrowed his gaze naturally wary. Clark grinned in reaction and then asked, “What is it?”

“My brother and I were supposed to be attending a party tonight, with his ill health we were going to cry off, but…” he motioned to Clark, “…according to you, he’s on the mend, and I don’t feel too guilty leaving him and…”

“And what?” he urged.

Bruce tilted his head charmingly, and invited, “Would you like to come with me to the party, I could show you around.”

Clark blinked nervously, “Um…” he glanced at his friend, “I don’t think, listen on my world I’m not in… well… I’m not in the jet set. I’m just… a normal guy, and I don’t think I can pull it off…”

The man who invited him widened his eyes in wonder at his embarrassing ramble. Beside him, his friend however chuckled. 

Clark shot him a glare, “B!” he admonished.

His Bruce grinned at him, and for a second Clark was blown away by the radiance of that genuine smile. 

Then his friend urged, “You’re fast on your feet Clark, just remember that other guy is dead, and if you get into trouble just pretend that you’re Superman.”

“Who’s Superman?” the other Bruce asked.

Clark shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.” 

 

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

TITLE: Twain 7  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,559  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark has an interesting time at the party.

~S~

He contemplated his options, in a way his Bruce was right, here he didn’t have to be bumbling Clark Kent, he didn’t have to wear his glasses, Clark Wayne already had a disguise, a cowl. He winced at his friend, “Are you sure, what about you?”

His friend glanced at his counterpart, I think you’ll be safe with him, and I’ll keep his brother company. I’ll tell him all I know about having superpowers.”

He couldn’t believe he was doing this, yet he had a desire to do it, here in this other reality, walk into a crowded room, and not worry about his secret identity. He hadn’t been able to do that since he had decided to skew his identity and his personality into a disguise.

He met Bruce Wayne’s gaze, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

~*~

As the evening drew in, he was urged into the dressing room of Clark Wayne’s bedroom, with a set of Clark Wayne’s evening clothes. He dressed himself in the expensive garments. As he combed his hair, his own gaze took in his appearance, and he had to admit to himself, he looked pretty good, what was that saying about the clothes maketh the man? He wore a very dark blue pinstripe suit, with slightly lighter shade of blue silk shirt underneath. He hadn’t been given a tie, so he left the collar open a couple of buttons. 

He left the dressing room, and stepped out into the bedroom. The other Clark gave him a pale but encouraging smile. His brother smiled and nodded, saying, “Very nice, no one will be able to guess you’re not my brother.”

Finally, Clark met the gaze of the only man here who could really make a comparison. He knew that in their world, Clark Wayne wouldn’t be able to walk around without someone noticing the difference. His friend gazed at him carefully blank; it was only the movement of his eyes that kept sweeping over him that let Clark know Bruce was even paying attention. With a touch of nerves caused by the mute appraisal, Clark licked his lips, and asked, “Well, B what do you think?”

His Bruce inhaled and then exhaled, “As he said, you will fit in perfectly.”

After everything had come into focus, and subsequently put on the backburner, Clark was a little disappointed that he hadn’t got a bigger reaction from his friend. For a second, it made him question what he actually wanted to happen, what he wanted the outcome of his revelations to be. He was brought back to the moment, as the other Bruce said, “Let’s get going then.”

Clark nodded, “Okay, let’s go then.”

He watched as his companion for the night, leaned over and kissed his ill brother on the forehead. He whispered, “I’ll tell you all the gossip when I get back.”

He glanced back at his friend, “I’ll see you later.”

Bruce nodded stoically.

~B~

As Clark and his own counterpart left, Bruce let out a relieved breath. He didn’t know what Clark was going to face tonight, but Bruce believed that experiencing new situations would help Clark in the long run, to shake off the mind set of being the Clark Kent that he had been playing for the past several years. He was no longer able to show that persona to the world, the sooner he realised he had other choices the better. His friend going out tonight without him, was a bonus to Bruce too, he had a few hours where he was no longer under Clark’s spotlight. 

He had seen in his friend’s eyes, the expectation from Bruce. He saw his friend’s need for more than his reassurance. Yet Clark hadn’t made it clear one way or another, his reciprocation of his feelings or not as the case may be. He already felt his friend had the upper hand and Bruce hadn’t been willing to give him more power over him, by exposing his sexual attraction. Oh, the truth had been on the tip of his tongue, the urge to tell him he looked divine in clothes that only enhanced his already significant charms.

~S~

Side by side, Clark walked into the party with the man who was a carbon copy of his friend. The people here exuded confidence and money. It wasn’t a big fancy do, or a charity ball, he’d been observer to those kinds of shindigs on his own world. This was more casual, if casual meant you drank champagne, and laughed and didn’t care if it spilled on your thousand dollar shirt.

Bruce patted his shoulder, “Relax or you’re going to get the wrong kind of attention.”

Clark frowned, at the suggestion, “What do you think I’m trying to do here?”

The billionaire smirked at him with bemusement, and then reached out and grabbed a couple of drinks. He passed him one. Clark glanced at it, and then took a sip. He smiled, “You do realise that alcohol doesn’t work on me.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, “Yeah, you mean…”

He chuckled, “Yes him too, as soon as he’s well again.”

“Shit…” he laughed, “He isn’t going to be happy about that.”

“He drinks a lot?” he asked.

“Let’s just say he likes to have a good time, we both do.”

“So it’s not just an act, you really party hard.” He was kind of surprised.

“Of course, why not…” he looked Clark over, “You don’t like to enjoy yourself?”

Clark glanced around the party. He was excited by the challenge. Then he smirked, “I haven’t had that much practise but I’m willing to have a go.”

~B~

He returned to the bedroom with a refreshed jug of water, and met the gaze of the other Clark. He walked over to the recovering man. It was nighttime now and his healing had slowed down again. He sat down on the edge of the bed. The all too familiar eyes gazed at him, familiar but not the same, the different life experiences of the men shone out in stark contrast. Then Clark Wayne asked, “You said you aren’t brothers but you seem almost as close.”

He smiled begrudgingly. He had spent not just the last day putting off talking about his feelings, but a long time coming to terms with those feelings, and he had just gotten away with talking about it with the man in question, but now he was faced with his reflection asking the questions instead.

He explained, “We are very close, Clark is my best friend.”

Clark Wayne smiled a little stronger since he’d spent the daytime recovering, “Bruce is both my brother and my best friend.”

He nodded, “I can see that, and your crime fighting partners too, I take it.”

“That’s right, I noticed when you arrived, only you wore your uniform.” He inquired.

He shrugged, “It was just how your brother caught us. Clark’s uniform is at home.” he didn’t explain his uniform was different from his own.

His companion smirked, “Home, don’t tell me you live together too.”

“Actually, at the moment yes. Alfred, I mean my Alfred chose this exact bedroom for him when he moved in.”

Clark suggested, “Maybe these similarities are what made John’s spell find you both.”

“John Zatara?” he asked.

“Yes, you do know him in your world right?” he queried.

He nodded, “I did. John died a while back though.”

“Oh that’s too bad, I’m sorry.” He said with sympathy.

“Different worlds, different losses.” He deferred, he tried not to linger on thoughts of people that were gone.

“You mean like Clark’s parents, the Kent’s?” he said curiously.

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“They’re still alive?” he wondered.

“Martha is alive and well, Mr Kent died before I met Clark, but he was there for all of Clark’s childhood.” He revealed thoughtfully, “Though I didn’t know him, he definitely had an impact on the man that my friend is.” 

He nodded politely but said with empathy, “But both our world’s lost the Waynes.”

He grimaced a smile, “They’re probably alive out there somewhere.”

“I guess so.” Clark said, “My parents were killed, shot.” Bruce nodded to confirm it was the same for him. Clark continued, “We were at the movies…” he grimaced, “Me and Bruce were messing about too much and we were thrown out.” he swallowed a lump in his throat, “If we had behaved that night, we wouldn’t have been in that alley at that moment.”

He knew he should be comforted by the fact that in this world, it wasn’t just his fault they had been in that alley, but he couldn’t be. He didn’t want to tell him that with his natural abilities, as young as he was he might have been strong enough to stop Joe Chill. It was just misfortune that Thomas’s efforts to try to protect his sons had negated his own salvation.

Clark watched him closely, and then uttered, “You were alone all the years that me and Bruce had each other weren’t you, I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.” 

Bruce bowed his head; he hated the idea of being pitied. Then Clark Wayne reached out, and he caressed Bruce’s cheek. Then he said, “That’s why I can’t stand the idea of not being by my brother’s side, we belong together, but if I get those powers, I won’t be able to be.”

He raised his head, and met his gaze, “My Clark has those powers, and we work together. Our different skills complement each other. His powers have saved my life many times.”

Clark cringed, “Our success is based on working in tandem, we learnt everything together, practised together, and we don’t know how to do it without each other.”

There wasn’t much he could say, he’d learnt his skills as a separate entity, actually working with someone else, working with Dick, allowing him to have control over the outcome of a battle had been the thing he had struggled with most, the reliance and the faith in someone else’s skill. He could understand being worried about having to adapt, but he could also see something else in his eyes, something he had noticed earlier when Clark Kent had been explaining his origins; he saw in Clark Wayne’s eyes the fear, the fear of being an alien. He had never witnessed that fear in Clark Kent’s eyes. By the time, he had met him, he was fully accepting of his Kryptonian heritage, embracing his powers, and the tools to help people.

However, his friend had shared his stories, shared his history with him. He knew Clark Kent had gone through many upheavals. He knew he’d battled fear, the fear of his powers, and the fear of not fitting in, the fear of people finding out about him, and rejecting and hurting him. That fear had been combated by the desire and the need to reach out, and help people. With every attempt by that fear to pull him down, his determination and his need to help had dragged him higher until he was free of doubt, and flying high. A smile full of pride tugged at the edges of his mouth for the man who had wowed him, not with his tremendous good looks, or his physical sex appeal, but being a great hero, and a good sweet man. 

He saw Clark Wayne watching him. He considered the fact, that Clark Wayne already had everything pre-existing, his day to day needs were met, he had support from his Bruce and Alfred, he was already a crime-fighter, already had the urge to go on the streets and help. He reached out and he stroked his face in return, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

~S~

He took another swig of champagne; still it was doing nothing for him, as he knew it wouldn’t. He was trying to maintain Clark Wayne’s image while still trying to enjoy himself. It was definitely cool strolling around in public, no glasses, no need to pretend to be shy, although that mostly hadn’t been a pretence. Give him an evil robotic alien mastermind and he could face it down, he might not be able to put it down straightaway but having the courage to face it, that was no problem, but talking to pretty, smart confident people, and there he stumbled in the confidence stakes. Thinking of those types of people, he really wished Bruce were here. 

From across the room, the alternate Bruce Wayne raised his glass in salute, alternate - well seeing as though it was his friend and himself who were in a different universe maybe they were the alternates. Anyway that didn’t matter, what mattered was Bruce his B, well they hadn’t got that far but he really wished he was here right now. There had been so many times, when he and his friend had had fun together; not boozing or getting high, but simply sharing the peculiarities of living their kind of life.

In a life where you were putting on a show most of the time in public, to have someone to share that with, to meet each other’s gaze, and smile or roll your eyes subtly knowing the other understood made it easier. He glanced around again, there was no subtle here. This world’s Bruce was over there really getting drunk, leaving him to fend for himself, the real Clark Wayne if he had been here would probably be doing the same. 

He felt someone touch his shoulder, and he turned to find a gorgeous brunette behind him, automatically he smiled at the unfamiliar woman. Unabashed, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. “Good evening, Clark.”

He fought not to blush, fought to portray a billionaire playboy, his thoughts were of Brucie, as he replied, “Hello darling.”

She smiled wide and white, “How have you been?”

He didn’t know the woman’s real connection to his counterpart; he didn’t know how much she knew. He breathed in, and suddenly, he experienced a tangible flashback, he recognised the feminine scent of her. He remembered smelling her on Bruce, the night he had overheard them in the throes of passion. 

For a second he wondered why she was kissing him, but then he remembered he didn’t know this world, maybe in this world with both the Wayne brothers to choose from, she had been more attracted to him, well not him, Clark Wayne, with all the confidence and privilege and hair product that came with that life. 

Before he could make a reply, another woman a sexy redhead sidled up. Internally he groaned at even more hitches. The other woman asked, “We heard you’ve been ill?”

He wiped the tip of his nose for affect, “Just a touch of the flu.” He saw them glance at each other, and he added quickly, “Neither of you are scared of some silly old germs are you?”

The newcomer chuckled sultrily, and then leaned in and kissed him on the lips too. “You’re worth it babe.”

That blush really was threatening to show, to think his counterpart really had a life like Brucie Wayne. 

 

To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

TITLE: Twain 8  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,533  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark is overwhelmed and Bruce is in turmoil.

~S~

He was on the spot. He didn’t know what to do; these women were getting a little too friendly. Luckily, he was saved as his alternate brother ambled up. He said smoothly, “Hello, Vicki, hello Julie.”

He kissed them both on the lips. Clark tensed his jaw, trying not to react to the freely shared kisses between the two brothers and these ladies. He spoked up to cover his tracks, following the cue, “I was just telling Vicki and Julie, I’ve just gotten over the flu.”

Bruce nodded, “Ah yes, poor thing had to stay in bed with no one to keep him warm.” he grinned slyly at Clark, “Why don’t we find a private corner, we don’t want to give all these people the lurgy do we.”

The women laughed, and then Bruce guided them all to a conservatory that looked out to an extensive garden. On the way, Clark noticed a familiar stranger; he was still bald headed and handsome in this universe too. A little on guard, he tugged at Bruce’s arm, “Luthor is here.”

Bruce turned, and looked and waved at Lex cheerily. Surprised, Clark leaned in, “He’s not a bad guy here?”

His companion frowned, “Who Xander? He’s tenacious in expanding his company. He has some high and mighty ideas about running for President, but he’s not bad, not to my knowledge.”

Clark didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Lex might just be better at hiding his tracks here, or maybe it was because the people who should be on his trail were too busy partying. Or maybe here, he was just an overzealous businessman. 

Just before he turned away, Xander Luthor nodded to him knowingly. Clark took a breath and nodded back.

As he entered the conservatory, he noticed everyone was seated, and the ladies had left a space for him, right between the two of them on the couch. Bruce was sitting safely in an easy chair. As he backed himself into the space, he shot Bruce a glare. A sardonic smile was sent his way. 

They sat there for a while, exchanging small talk, the women spent time filling him in with the gossip that he had missed while he’d been ‘sick’. He really couldn’t converse with them properly, he didn’t know most of the people they were talking about, and the rest he’d heard of, but he knew the gossip might not match their counterparts in his world. As he talked, the women, well from the looks of things his girlfriends seemed to be getting closer and closer. Their lips tickled his ear, and then Vicki’s hand covered his thigh casually. He wasn’t immune to their charms, they were both beautiful women, but the fact that their interest wasn’t really him, made him feel guilty for the pretence. 

He glanced over at Bruce, who did nothing but continue watching with interest. God, he wished his Bruce were here, he’d help him. He’d understand his discomfort, and draw their attentions away. Moments after thinking that, he began to wonder if the fact that Bruce would help him get rid of the women would be to help him or maybe it would be just to get them away from him. He swallowed hard, was Bruce the jealous type, had Bruce ever been jealous about him. He suddenly realised, he didn’t even know how long Bruce had… well they hadn’t talked so there wasn’t a word for what Bruce felt yet. 

His gaze lingered on the other Bruce. Maybe this was all in his head. He’d only seen Bruce’s devastation when he’d been shot, he remembered this Bruce lamenting his dying brother. Maybe that was all it was, maybe Bruce just cared for him like a brother. He remembered searching Bruce’s face for a compliment on the way that he looked tonight and how Bruce had been silent with any praise. Suddenly he felt unbalanced, he’d assumed Bruce’s feelings were romantic in nature, maybe it was hearing him that night, when he’d heard him make the counterpart of the woman sitting so close to him now scream in ecstasy that had coloured his own thoughts. 

He remembered wanting to make Bruce cry out with passionate fervour. His mouth was suddenly dry. The smell of the woman, a man who looked just like his friend, and his own memories became too much, and he sprang up from the couch. He turned and he excused, “I just realised that we don’t have any drinks.”

Then he left the conservatory hurriedly.

He had the urge to go outside into the garden, and get some air. The urge overwhelmed him, and he reached for the doors and went out onto the patio. He gazed up into the starry sky, and had the urge to fly away. 

He heard footsteps come up behind him. He made his excuses, “I just needed a minute.”

“Maybe you’ve come back to society too early after your illness.” A smooth tone replied.

He recognised the voice. He sighed and played along, “Maybe, I just missed it you know.”

Xander Luthor took a step up to stand beside him. There was easy silence for a while. It was strange to share quiet company with him again. Bruce said that they didn’t know of any villainy yet there’d been a time when Clark had only known of Lex’s cleverness and his sophistication, oblivious to what was under that calm façade, and Clark wasn’t sure how well this Clark and Lex knew each other. Then Xander said, “You seem different.”

Clark licked his lips, trust any version of Lex to be too observant. He smiled unconsciously, “You seem pretty similar.”

He felt his gaze on him, and Clark turned and met it. Then Xander admitted, “You know you’ve always been a pretty face Clark, but that’s all you’ve ever been to me.” Clark’s brow creased in question. Xander nodded along, “To be honest, you’ve always been too cocky, for my taste, always knew what your assets were.”

He didn’t understand; if that’s how this Lex really felt, why even approach him tonight.

Then the handsome bald headed man blew out a snorting breath, “My god, tonight is the first time I’ve…” he licked his lips, “The first time I’ve seen something that I might want.”

Clark’s eyes widened, and he groaned inaudibly, “Lex.”

He saw Xander’s eyes flare with arousal at the sound he had made, and Xander leaned in and murmured, “There’s an innocence about you tonight, and I like it.”

It was like a teenaged fantasy, and a modern day nightmare rolled into one crazy moment. He smiled at the absurdity of it. Xander moved in closer, taking his smile as consent. He didn’t have time to do anything before someone cleared their throat. Xander bowed his head away, and Clark turned and saw his ‘brother’ there staring at what was before him.

Then Bruce said, “I think you’ve been out too long, let’s get you home.”

Clark nodded and turned back to Xander, who was staring at a distant point on the horizon trying to pretend what he did, hadn’t just happened. He honestly didn’t know what Clark Wayne’s reaction to the pass would be, and he really didn’t want to make his choices for him. He uttered, “Xander, I’ll see you.”

He saw Xander blink, but didn’t get anything more from him, so Clark nodded, and walked away and joined Bruce.

~*~

They had been mostly silent on the way home, Clark driving the sports car because he guessed that Bruce must be over the limit. He parked up in the garage, and then they made their way up to the Manor. As they reached the darkened long hallway that led one way to the kitchen at the back of the house and the grand staircase in the other, Bruce finally asked what was on his mind, “What was that with Xander?”

Clark shook his head with a bemused smile, “I don’t know, Xander just decided to make a pass at me I guess.”

Bruce reached out and caught his arm, and they both stopped and faced each other. Bruce frowned at him, “You let him get close enough to…”

He snorted, “I wasn’t going to kiss him. If you knew my Lex you’d understand that.”

“Your Lex...?” he was questioned.

He shrugged, “Yeah, like my world, my parents, my friends…” he smiled softly, “My Bruce.”

This alternate Bruce Wayne nodded thoughtfully, and then asked, “You weren’t interested in Vicki and Julie is that because…”

“They’re both beautiful but they’re not mine.” He explained.

“Is that the only reason?” he pushed.

He rolled his eyes at his pushiness, “What difference does it make?”

He began to move away but Bruce stopped him. “I’m sorry, seeing what I saw made me curious.” Clark nodded with understanding, then he stopped suddenly as Bruce leaned in further, he could smell the sweetness of alcohol on his breath as he uttered quietly, “My brother and I, we share everything, always have. We share women like Julie and Vicki, you got that right?” 

He nodded, “Yeah it was kind of obvious.”

Bruce continued furtively, “Sometimes we share them at the same time, with the ladies’ approval of course.”

Clark breathed slowly in response to that private information.

“It’s always been exciting that way, seeing each other that way.” he felt his breath on his lips as he revealed, “Meeting you has been really nice, and tonight you got me curious…”

His eyes focused on Clark’s lips, and then he began to close the gap. Seeing the vision of his best friend leaning in to kiss him made his mind go fuzzy and made his reactions slow down. However, he turned his face away before his lips met his. He whispered, “I’m not your brother.”

There was hot breath on his cheek as he murmured, “That’s what makes it not wrong.”

Clark glanced back and held his gaze so close; he saw blatant arousal there, and seeing it there in those same looking eyes, stirred Clark’s desires. Arousal was like quicksilver through to his nerves endings. Feeling hot under the collar, he murmured in return, “You’re not my Bruce.”

He lifted his arms and pressed his hands against the wall behind Clark, and corralled him in, “Just for one night, I could be.” Bruce Wayne replied huskily.

Clark chuckled breathily. “This has been a strange night.”

Bruce smiled and urged, “C’mon, the world can right itself in the morning, come to my bedroom. What do you say?”

“I say, back off from something that’s not yours.” A low determined voice said from the shadows down the hallway.

Clark shivered at the inferred claiming of him in that sentence.

They both turned, and found his friend there. The other Bruce Wayne glanced back at Clark, and then backed away slowly. Then without saying a word, though he saw a touch of shame reflected in his eyes at being caught, he turned, and headed for the grand staircase, and then he disappeared upstairs. 

Clark unpinned himself from the wall and straightened up. His and his best friend’s gazes locked for a very long moment. He couldn’t read the look on his friend’s face in the shadows. He wondered if he would’ve been able to read it in bright sunshine.

“Did you learn something tonight Clark?” he was asked solemnly.

He felt his cock heavy against his thigh, he exhaled and admitted, “I don’t understand everything yet, but I’ve figured somethings out, yes.”

Shadowy eyes reached through the dark at him, but that connection was severed when Bruce turned silently, and disappeared up the stairs. His hearing followed the footfalls up. Clark’s chest heaved, but he shook his head with confusion. What was Bruce thinking? What was he himself feeling?

~B~

Bruce walked the dark hallways of Wayne Manor, but this wasn’t his home. He had the urge to find Alfred, his sounding board, his dear friend, but in this reality, he wasn’t his Alfred. He wouldn’t understand, to him they were his little boys brought up as brothers, he wouldn’t understand how he felt. 

Confusion about Clark played on his mind. The odd thing was in all the time he had known his friend, he’d never been confused by his feelings for him. They had grown naturally, from respect of another man trying to do good with the powers at his disposal, to feelings of liking him when he got to know him, as time went on that respect and liking had grown and become caring, deep caring, and all that while he knew there was an underlying sexual attraction too. He’d understood it, though it had taken a long time to accept it and live with it. 

He had never been confused; it was just the balance of his needs, the need for a good friend, or the need for him to be his lover, the need not to hinder his optimist best friend with his baggage. As time had gone on his baggage seemed lighter in Clark’s company and he had felt he was worth Clark’s affection. But then there was the weighing up of Clark’s feelings, would his friend be open to changing the boundaries of their relationship, could Clark’s affection ever be more than that, could he ever want him as he wanted him.

He didn’t know, it wasn’t confusion, he just didn’t know.

Tonight, he had waved him off, and sent his friend out on his own, wanting to give him the chance to experience another way of being, another way of living his life than as Clark Kent the nerdy guy who worked at the Daily Planet. He didn’t know what had transpired tonight, but to see the reflection of himself in so close proximity to his friend had sent him into confusion. It wasn’t the fact that his counterpart would want Clark, not even taking into consideration the fucked up fact that he was coming onto a guy who was the spitting image of his brother. No the confusion was the fact that Clark had let him corral him in, and in the shadows, he seemed to be considering the pass seriously.

He remembered telling his alternate to step back from what didn’t belong to him, yet Clark really didn’t belong to him either.

If Clark was open to exploring an attraction with his counterpart, what did that say about his feelings for him? If he was open to it, why not wait for him, just as Bruce had waited for Clark all this time. He hadn’t been abstinent but his heart had waited.

He ran his hands through his hair with frustration. This was getting him nowhere. Tomorrow they’d deal with Clark Wayne gaining his powers, and then they could go home. Then once they were on home turf, they could have it all out, one way, or another. Friendship or more, it was Clark’s choice and Bruce would accept it. 

 

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

TITLE: Twain 9  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,502  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce come to an understanding.

~B~

He’d only taken a step towards the bedrooms, when he realised that this wasn’t his house, his bedroom wasn’t his. He tutted at himself with annoyance, then he made a choice, and he made his way to the first guestroom along the hallway. He opened the door, and in the dusky room, he saw a mound, a body sleeping under the covers. He smiled despite himself. He whispered, “It looks like we had the same idea.”

For a moment, he thought about going to another guestroom. Then he shook his head at his own thoughts. If this were any other time in their friendship, alone on a mission in a strange possibly hostile place, they’d bunk together, with no intentions and no foibles about it. He reached for his polo shirt and pulled it up over his head, and then let it fall to the carpet. He reached for and unzipped his jeans, while toeing off his shoes. Then in the dark bedroom, he lifted the bedsheet. For a second, he second-guessed himself, and considered lying on top of the bedclothes. He chided himself and then grasped the sheet with fortitude and he slipped into the bed, under the sheets.

As he settled down under the remarkably snug bedclothes, Clark made a soft disgruntled sound as his presence disturbed his sleep. Bruce took a shallow breath trying not to make a sound. His gaze found the heat-giving sleeping figure; he could make out his handsome features by the glimmer of moonlight in the bedroom coming in from the windows. God he was beautiful, like a work of art. Bruce squeezed closed his eyes. He daren’t even look again at the man sleeping beside him. His friend made another distracting little noise, and Bruce willed himself to go to sleep.

His thoughts wouldn’t settle. He didn’t know how he had managed to lay this close to him before on those other missions; it was only Clark’s ignorance of Bruce’s feelings that had changed since then. Now that Clark knew, his presence beside him felt dangerous. Every nerve in Bruce’s body felt sensitive. 

After a few minutes, he wasn’t asleep, but he heard a sigh, and then movement and he knew Clark had woken up. He kept his eyes closed and didn’t acknowledge him or his own wakefulness.

Softly spoken, Clark uttered, “Bruce…? Bruce, are you pretending to be asleep?”

He had the urge to smile, but he kept his tight control, and didn’t reply.

His friend sighed, “Okay, just listen then. You asked me earlier if I’d learnt anything from my experience tonight. I did. I learnt that without you there, I didn’t enjoy myself so much.” 

It was so nice to hear him say that. He felt antsy under his spotlight again, knowing he was watching him through the darkness. He almost jumped as Clark’s hand caressed his cheek and then his jawline. He knew he was trying to get him to respond, but he’d feel foolish if he admitted he really was awake. He felt Clark scooch up closer in the bed. He felt his warm naked leg skim his own. He wondered what he was up to now. Then he felt Clark’s fingertips begin to trace patterns on his bare chest. 

He tried not to react.

“I also met the woman from the other night, Julie isn’t it. I didn’t know her name before, but I knew it was her because she smelled the same. In this world it’s me who sleeps with her, actually I think we both do.” His tracing fingers ran along the line of Bruce’s abdomen, the touch wasn’t light enough to tickle, it was too sensual for that, and involuntarily his abs flexed. He heard a little teasing laugh, felt the hot breath of it over his chest, and his nipples hardened in response. Clark continued, “I wonder if she’d scream for me if I fucked her.”

He let out a little gasp of arousal at Clark Kent using profanity. 

He heard Clark hum in response. “There was another woman there tonight, Vicki, I’ve seen her about, she works for the Gotham Gazette, doesn’t she?” his fingers trailed to his oblique, “I guess you must have a thing for reporters huh?”

He wanted to argue and to tell him that he was proud of his work but his attraction had nothing to do with his job. He didn’t, he squeezed his lips together, as Clark’s roaming fingers traced all the way back up his torso, and his fingertips traced his hard nipples. 

Shit, what was he doing to him?

Clark continued whispering to him, “I was sitting between two beautiful sexy women, two interested women, and all I could think about was you.” His fingers trailed down again. Bruce’s body trembled in response. “I realised tonight, I don’t know how you feel. I thought I did, when I saw that footage, but I began to wonder if I was only seeing what I wanted to see.”

Bruce’s breath was fitful as those fingers flattened out, and his friend’s flat palm rubbed over his abs again. He was confused again, what did Clark want to see? He had never been able to figure it out, but now his hands were telling Bruce he wanted so much more than Bruce had ever hoped for. He needed to hear Clark’s voice tell him in words. So he kept his eyes closed although it was painfully obvious he wasn’t asleep.

The fingers sneaked along and played along his bare thigh, his thumb sliding towards the crease at his groin. Bruce shuddered as he hardened. Then Clark’s soft deep voice continued, “Lex was at the party, and I don’t know if he’s good, bad or indifferent here, but he approached me, and he told me how good looking he thought Clark Wayne had always been, but tonight he said he found himself attracted to him for the first time. I don’t know why me being there should make that difference.”

Bruce licked his lips. He wanted to explain. ‘It’s because you’re more than just a beautiful man, your inner beauty shines through and makes you something special, more than just a hot guy.’ 

Then Clark chuckled, “And on top of all that, we get back, and the other you made me an offer.”

He knew, he saw, and he wanted to ask, ‘Were you were tempted?’ But he didn’t ask.

He almost startled as he felt Clark’s hot breath so close to his skin, and his soft lips kiss his sternum. “Do you know what it was like looking into his eyes and seeing that desire there? You’re always in so much control B that I’ve never seen you look at me like that. I still don’t know if you feel that way about me.”

He wanted to laugh at the craziness of it, he was laying here at his tender mercy as his hands and his lips caressed him, his erection was beginning to strain his shorts, and his friend with the super senses didn’t know if he desired him.

Clark murmured, “I know how careful you are, or maybe you never saw any signs that I might want you.”

He swallowed hard. Yes, this man knew him better than anyone did. ‘Please tell me now’. He silently begged.

Clark’s hand returned to Bruce’s chest, fingered along his sternum while whispering, “I care about you, you’re so special to me B, I’d die for you, but you already knew that. I guess what you need to know is that the other night, when I heard you in bed with that woman, and afterwards talking to you in your bedroom… I went to bed and I thought about you… I thought about her screaming your name, and I thought about you fucking her so hard and you not crying out her name. I wanted to hear you cry someone’s name into the darkness.”

Bruce was shivering with passion, as Clark said in a guttural murmur, “Tonight I realised it was my name that I wanted to hear you cry out.”

Then he felt his friend’s soft tongue lick the peak of his hard nipple, and close his lips around it. Bruce cried out hoarsely, “Clark!”

His eyes sprang open and he stared down his own body at his best friend, Clark met his gaze so close, his mouth still hovering over his damp nipple, and then Clark smiled smugly, “That’s almost right but I wanted it louder and so much needier.”

He gazed at him, his best friend, but also someone new too. Bruce whispered, “We were supposed to wait until we got home.”

“You climbed into bed with me.” His friend smiled encouragingly. “I think it’s the perfect time.” 

His hot breath glanced over his damp nipple and Bruce gasped softly. Clark laughed lightly, and then he stretched up and leaned in slowly until his mouth hovered over Bruce’s mouth. Clark breathed the words across his lips, “I think you should kiss me now.”

Bruce swallowed slowly, and breathed, “Oh my god.” And then with shaky hands, he cupped his friend’s head gently, and he closed the gap and pressed his lips to Clark’s plush soft lips. 

There was a shuddery little breath caught between them. He didn’t know which one of them was the source of it but he did know that their lips slid together slowly. Then Clark’s arms raised and encircled the pillow, and Bruce’s head, and his whole body followed and moved so he was laid over him, on top of him strong chest to strong chest, hard body to hard body. Bruce’s muscled arms encircled Clark’s broad shoulders before one hand ran down to the small of his back, needing to feel that smooth warm skin. 

A satisfied groan emanated between them as their lips parted for breath. Their eyes locked in the meagre light, as they both tried to read each other’s thoughts. Then Clark made a careful descent but hesitated halfway. Eagerly, Bruce murmured, “Please kiss me.”

He saw a joyous smile flash over Clark’s features before his expression settled into soft concentration, and he finished his descent and took Bruce’s mouth gently but wholly. Bruce’s fingertips clung to Clark’s back, needing him closer, needing them to be more than two separate bodies. He wanted him, his mind, his heart and his body wanted him, and the hardened length of flesh that was trapped between them wanted him.

Clark’s mouth kissed the corner of his lips, then his jaw, and then slid to his ear, and he whispered huskily, “I want you B.”

Bruce took a startled breath, hearing his heart’s desire from the man who knew him so well. Clark lifted his head and he gazed down at him, and he admitted hoarsely, “I didn’t know, I didn’t realise. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head against the pillow, “I wanted to tell you. I didn’t know when, but I’ve wanted to tell you that I love you, Clark.”

His friend took a nervous shaky breath, he caressed Bruce’s temples with both his thumbs, and he uttered, “No, silly why didn’t you tell me that I was in love with you too.”

Bruce’s eyes widened and he said fragilely, “What?”

Clark smiled, and nodded with understanding, “You couldn’t see it, that’s why you never said anything.”

His brow creased, “I knew you cared Clark, so much, but I didn’t know…”

“You didn’t know I was attracted to you.” Clark chuckled, “How could I not, look at you but just because the most important man in my life is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen doesn’t mean…” His friend trailed off his awe inspiring tirade, and Bruce was dying for him to continue, but he didn’t, he bowed his head almost to Bruce’s chest, and then he laughed hysterically almost.

His senses were firing all at once. His body wanted to continue what they had started. His mind wanted to hear what Clark was feeling. His nose was filled with the intoxicating scent of the man that he loved so close to him finally. His mouth and his tongue wanted to taste him. He could feel his laughter shaking his body but he wanted to look at him and see that laughter, and understand it. Finally, he cupped Clark’s jaw and he raised his face to him. He asked with a hesitant smile almost quirking his own lips, “What are you laughing at?”

Clark’s eyes sparkled at him though there was hardly any light in the room. He knew where that light was coming from, and his body quivered knowing the power in those eyes. Clark huffed softly, and it warmed Bruce’s face. “I just got nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. Did I tell you that?” he revealed.

He shook his head, in awe that they were having a conversation in this position, “No you didn’t, that’s incredible news, I’m proud of you.”

His friend shrugged though it was clumsy as they were both pressed against each other still. He said wryly, “Do you think they’d award me the Prize if they knew that the lauded investigative journalist couldn’t work out what was in front of him all this time.”

Bruce smiled, and admitted, “I had the same clues, but the difference with me was I didn’t have the experience of being close to many cherished friends and family, so I knew how special you were to me all along.”

Clark frowned, “Oh you’ve always been special to me, B.” Then Clark leaned in, and kissed him tenderly.

He returned the kiss, and then broke it carefully. He slowly played with the cushion of Clark’s tantalizing lips with his fingertip. Although he was hard, he didn’t want a shadowy tryst in a strange world in a strange bed; his feelings were deeper than that. He had waited, he could wait some more. He requested, “When we do more than this I want to be at home.” 

“You want me in your own bed?” Clark asked curiously.

He swallowed hard but replied honestly, “Yes.”

Clark’s chest heaved gently. “I’ve been wondering… wondering how long I’ve been blind.”

Bruce smiled softly, “I’m very good at hiding things, it’s part of my job.”

His friend and teammate nodded, “You’ve always shared things with me.”

He admitted, “Because I’ve always liked you, Clark, trusted you.”

“I know.” He stated and then asked tentatively, “How long have you wanted me?”

He breathed out, “Always.”

Clark blinked slowly in response.

“Is that okay?” Bruce asked.

His best friend nodded, “Of course it’s okay.” 

“Is it alright if we wait?” he checked.

His friend bowed their foreheads together, “I can hardly wait, but I will wait for you as you have waited for me.”

 

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

TITLE: Twain 10  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,550  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce have a preview of the passion that they will share.

~S~

Clark awakened slowly, a subconscious need not to move, and stay in bed ordered him to go back to sleep. He sighed softly, and then the sound was echoed from the proximity of his heart. He felt the comforting weight against his chest. His hand came up level with his chest, and his fingers threaded around soft silky hair. He sighed again, and grazed the scalp gently with his nails. There was a tiny groan, and then the head that lay against his chest turned, a light scraping of light stubble and then lips pressed a kiss to his heart.

He lay there with his eyes closed and remembered last night with contentment. They hadn’t had sex but they had shared their love for one another, with words and with kisses. Bruce’s love was long standing, and mute in respect of their friendship, his own just fully realised but it too was long standing. He had known that he loved him, he just never realised he was in love with him, or maybe he hadn’t been, maybe it was the seeing the look of love in Bruce’s normally stoic eyes that had made him fall or how right it felt the way Bruce had fallen asleep against him, peaceful and tranquil.

It didn’t matter because he really wanted to make a go of this, he didn’t know how they would go about it, with his civilian life up in the air, after Clark Kent’s tragic murder. Even thinking about it now pissed him off. He tensed his jaw against his anger and disappointment. Then Bruce’s lips caressed his chest again, and then he said sleepily, “One problem at a time, Superman.”

His pique dissipated as suddenly as it came, he traced his fingers down Bruce’s arm, and then he tickled his armpit. Bruce startled into action, “You little…” 

They tussled on the bed, and Clark laughed with playful glee, as after a couple of minutes he let Bruce get the upper hand, pinning his tickling hands to the pillow beside Clark’s head. His friend glowered down at him, and Clark grinned up at him, “You got a problem Batman?”

A tousled haired Bruce stared down at him bewildered, with his chest heaving. Clark complimented, “You look sexy first thing in the morning.” 

His friend shook his head slowly with exasperation. 

Then he blinked slowly, and then his hands tightened on Clark’s hands that he was pinning. Clark breathed steadily, and he linked their fingers together. Then he became conscious of the weight spread across his crotch. He realised their position, and how his best friend had ended up, straddling his hips. He groaned under his breath as his body responded to the weight and to the sight of his friend’s athletic body sitting on top of him, their boxer shorts the only thing coming between them. 

His gaze found Bruce’s, he saw Bruce lick his lips nervously. Clark wanted to ask him if this was a position that he liked. He knew what a manly man Bruce was, but as far as Clark was concerned, that didn’t mean anything when it came to pleasure. His own abilities tipped the balance when it came to strength but that didn’t mean anything either when it came to sharing something like this with someone. His eyes caressed the gorgeous man over him. He wanted to see him like this but naked. His body reacted and reflexively, he rolled his hips up. 

He saw that Bruce was astonished by the move, but he also saw the flare of something like arousal in his eyes, and he felt Bruce’s body ride out the movement instead of moving away. Bruce looked down at him another long moment, and then he descended and he kissed Clark’s lips with a flurry of tentative caresses.

Clark smiled against his lips, “I thought you wanted to wait?”

His friend spoke against his lips, “I do, but kissing is all right, right?”

He sighed with contentment, “Kissing is just fine.”

It was more than fine it was heavenly. When Bruce kissed him again, Clark opened his mouth and his tongue met Bruce’s briefly. Bruce groaned, and then his grasping hands let go of Clark’s hands. Clark felt them caress down his forearms, and his biceps, and then they cupped his head. Bruce deepened the kiss.

Clark’s now free hands, reached up to Bruce’s strong shoulders, and then caressed down his lats, to his waist, and then he gently pulled him down onto his crotch as he rocked up. Bruce gasped into his mouth, and then groaned something unintelligible. It couldn’t have been anything bad because he continued to kiss him.

His hands lowered until they glided over his firm curved ass, Bruce’s tongue darted into his mouth in response, Clark groaned, and then one of his hands trailed to the front of Bruce’s boxer shorts. At his touch, his friend made a rumbling noise, and he whined into his mouth, “No, god, please don’t do that.”

He was so close that Clark breathed the question into his mouth, “Something wrong?”

Bruce’s hand left Clark’s head and he reached down and he grasped Clark’s groping hand and pulled it away gently. He murmured into his mouth, “When we get home please.”

He swallowed down his doubt, and he smiled, “Okay.” 

Then Bruce drew back, and gazed down at him and he whispered, “This is just as nice I always imagined it would be.”

He conceded, “Yes it was, but I suppose we’ve got to get up, Clark Wayne will be waking up with all his powers, and no way of knowing how to use them.”

His crime fighting partner nodded, “You’re right, let’s go.”

~*~

Within the space of a day, his outlook had changed, and getting dressed after his shower, while Bruce was taking his turn in the bathroom, was almost unbearable. He was so tempted to go back in there. Experiencing Bruce’s sensual side made Clark want to experience more of it. His best friend had turned him on, and now he couldn’t imagine being turned off again.

Nevertheless, he didn’t invade the bathroom, and soon they were walking the hallway that led to Clark Wayne’s bedroom. They eyed each other playfully, and then Bruce suddenly reached out and questioned, “Are you ticklish?”

Clark dodged away, and he chuckled, “You’ll have to do some private research when we get home.”

Bruce leered playfully, enjoying this newfound freedom as much as Clark was and Clark grinned back. As Bruce opened the bedroom door, Clark sneakily ran his fingers over Bruce’s ribs, and his friend let out a little yowl, and turned and trotted away backwards. Teasingly, Clark pretended to stalk him. Bruce laughed, and then they both stopped in their tracks when they came face to face with their counterparts and their guardian. Bruce licked his lips nervously, and Clark cleared his throat, “So, we’re all here.”

Clark Wayne and Alfred looked a little perplexed at their silliness, knowing they weren’t brothers though they were acting like kids at the moment, but the other Bruce Wayne’s expression was sheepishly aware. Then Clark Wayne said, “Bruce was telling me what happened last night.”

Internally, he mused, ‘I bet he didn’t tell you everything.” but he replied aloud, “Yes it was kind of strange, I guess I’m not cut out for the jet set.”

His own Bruce encouraged, “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go alone, with proper guidance I bet you could fit in.”

He remembered wishing Bruce had been there, wanting the safety net of his best friend’s presence and he nodded, “You might be right.”

His friend mouthed, “I always am.”

Clark shook his head, “Shush.”

Then they returned their attentions to the people that they were here to help. “I want to tell you about your abilities before we try things out.” Everyone was all ears, so he continued, “My abilities manifested one by one as I grew up, so I got used to them easier. At least you will know what’s coming, unlike my parents and me; every single one was a surprise. Yours are all going to come at once, but I don’t want you to be scared okay.”

His counterpart nodded, “Bruce, your Bruce explained last night, what each of them did.”

He glanced at Bruce and smiled, “Well that’s good. Apart from other Kryptonians, Bruce is probably the most knowledgeable about my abilities.”

It was true, Bruce had witnessed his abilities, and talked to him about them and now he knew enough that when they worked together, his teammate could suggest useful ways to use his powers for the best outcome of a mission.

Bruce nodded but conceded, “But I don’t know how it feels to contain all that power though.”

He acknowledged his words with a flash of a warm smile, and then walked over to the bed, where Clark Wayne was sitting up in a suntrap. He was looking so much better, the blue tinge had left his lips, and he just looked tired now instead of being on his death bed. Bruce had been right to suggest letting his energy return slowly and build up.

He began, “To begin with most of our powers only come into play when we want to use them, but some are always present without conscious thought.” He reached out and touched Clark’s hand, “Our invulnerability and our health is always there. Some of our vision capabilities come in when we focus on what we want to see, however our eyesight is better than humans generally, there’s no breakdown in our vision, and for example you will never need to wear glasses.”

Behind him, he heard his Bruce snigger under his breath. He ignored him and continued. “I’ll go through the different vision abilities in a bit. So well, um… Super breath is another one that needs you to think about it to switch it on, as it were.” 

He glanced around at the awestruck faces. He needed to get it all out so he continued. “Speed is one that’s quite easy to master, it’s a case of simply deciding to move faster, but what comes with that speed is reaction times. That is one of the best powers, it’s not about just running fast; it’s about reacting to what’s in front of you. Speed is nothing if you don’t notice what needs doing. Now the hardest power to get used to is your strength, because it’s not just about how you interact with the world, it’s how it interacts with you.”

After listening quietly, Alfred asked, “What do you mean by that?”

He met the older man’s gaze, “I mean, the story you told us, about Clark leaving bruises and breaking Bruce’s arm accidently when they were kids. The thing is unless you saw it; it might not have been Clark hurting Bruce. It could easily have been Bruce hurting himself against Clark.” 

The other men glanced at each other in wonder.

He met his friend’s gaze, and he gave him a tight smile. He had shared his musings about his life with his best friend over the years. Bruce knew that it was the first power that his parents had had to struggle with, teaching a small alien boy who was still learning to communicate with them the lesson of measured behaviour and gentleness. He returned his attention to his counterpart and then he continued, “If someone were to punch me now without me knowing that it was coming, they could hurt themselves. If it was with enough force they could shatter their hand bones, and I couldn’t stop that, any more than, if you punched a concrete wall. Even fighting criminals the way you and your brother fight, you will still have to be careful.”

The alternate Bruce jeered with disbelief, “You’re saying he’ll have to protect the criminals from himself.”

“Essentially, yes.” he nodded. 

Clark Wayne looked horrified, “So how do you live like that?”

“You’ll just have to always be aware.” He smiled, “I like to think of the world like a raw egg.”

He heard his Bruce snort at the allegory, and he saw the others frown.

He chuckled, and explained his approach, “You can hold an egg can’t you? The shell is delicate, fragile and if someone threw one at you without your knowledge the shell would crack up, and be smashed. However, when you know someone is going to throw it, you can catch it, handle it without too much thought, you can stroke the smooth shell, feel it, decorate it, and you can shake it and hear the insides without breaking it.”

He watched his counterpart struggle with the ideas, and he knew it was a huge thing to find out and come to terms with, but he didn’t have a choice, the injections to make him appear normal were killing him. He tried to find a happy point, and he shrugged, “And don’t forget, you’ll be able to fly as long as you accept what you’re capable of.”

Alfred cleared his throat, “I shall go and prepare breakfast and leave you boys to it.”

He was going to display a sample of all his powers, so that they could understand what they were dealing with. His plan was that after each example, Clark Wayne was to attempt to use each power and concentrate on that one until it was mastered. He was to begin with the non-lethal ones first to get him used to it.

He said, “I want you imagine you can hear Alfred downstairs.” Clark Wayne frowned, and so he urged, “It’s okay. Just close your eyes and think of Alfred.”

For the next few minutes, his counterpart had a look of stern concentration on his face. Then suddenly, he gasped, “I think I can hear something.” 

The men watching on smiled at his progress.

Abruptly, his eyes flew open, and then they squinted closed again, and his hands shot to his ears and he tried to cover them. He cried out, “What the hell is that?”

Clark recognised the trauma, and pain of hearing everything at once. It was overwhelming. Clark Wayne began to curl in on himself from the pain. He grasped Clark’s hands from his ears, knowing they were doing no good stopping the onslaught. He used them to gain his attention; he looked into his eyes, and spoke through the din that he knew he was hearing. “Clark, focus on me. Clark, find my voice, and only my voice. Ignore everything else and focus on my voice.”

It took an agonising while, looking into the mirror of distraught eyes, until his student had relaxed enough, and the pain had dissipated, and finally Clark’s hearing was focused just in the bedroom. His eyes met his brother’s and he spoke shakily, “It was terrible Bruce, there was so many voices it was deafening, so many sounds I couldn’t make any of them out.”

His Bruce suggested calmly, “Give the hearing a rest for now.”

 

To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

TITLE: Twain 11  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,565  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark begins the lessons to mentor his counterpart.

~S~

As Clark Wayne calmed down after the shock of hearing all the world’s noises all at once. Alfred arrived back upstairs. He announced, “Breakfast is prepared. Are you well enough to venture downstairs Master Clark?”

Clark Wayne nodded, “Yes I think so Alfred.”

He and Bruce glanced at each other; Alfred caught it and said, “You can practice after you have had the right start to the day.”

Being forced to have breakfast wasn’t that different to their usual lives so, they agreed and all went for their breakfast. 

~*~

As they ate their breakfast, Clark tried to reassure his counterpart, “I know that was horrible, believe me I understand, when I first heard that I was totally unprepared.” He shrugged, “It gets better. Once you have control, it’s an invaluable ability to have.”

Clark Wayne winced, “I don’t know how you can stand it. It’s taking all of my focus to stay in this room.”

“I know.” He sympathised. “But I know you can do it.” Internally, he thought, ‘You have to do it.’ 

~*~

As they finished off the first meal of the day, Alfred reappeared, “There is a visitor here to see Master Clark.”

“Who is it?” he replied.

“Mr Luthor, sir.” Alfred revealed.

Clark Wayne glanced around with a touch of surprise. He saw his brother pull a disgruntled face and wondered, “What’s the matter. What happened?”

His brother sneered, “He was at the party last night.”

“So” he urged.

He met his friend’s eyes knowing that he’d already revealed the incident that happened last night to him. Then he revealed to his counterpart, “Lex and I just had a chat last night.”

“Lex?” Clark questioned.

His brother revealed, “That’s what he called him last night.”

“You didn’t?” he asked in horror.

He quelled him, “No, he didn’t hear me call him Lex.” At the lingering question on his face, he shrugged, “Xander, he’s called Lex in our world.”

Clark’s eyes widened, “He didn’t figure out you weren’t me did he?”

He swallowed and said, “No, um nothing like that…”

“So what happened?” he pushed.

The alternate Bruce snorted softly.

“Well…?” he urged again.

At his hesitance to reveal the pass, his own Bruce interrupted, “I think it’ll be better if you just find out from Luthor what he wants yourself.”

He nodded along with agreement, but Clark’s brother grumbled under his breath. Clark glanced around again, and then stood up and went to meet his version of Lex Luthor.

After he was gone, Clark Wayne’s brother glared at him, and accused, “This is your fault, if you hadn’t let him…”

He glanced at his own Bruce, and back again and defended himself, “I told you, I wasn’t going to kiss him.”

“It sure looked like it!”

Almost slipping into Batman’s low rasp, Bruce condemned, “It looked like he was going to kiss you last night, but he wasn’t going to.”

A quiver of excitement went through him hearing Bruce’s faith in him, in his teammate’s serious tone. The other Bruce’s eyes widened at the reminder from last night. Then he accused, “Maybe he shouldn’t let men close enough to make them think he’s going to.”

Clark shook his head, and with steel in his voice, he stated, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” 

He glanced back at his friend and his own Bruce quirked his lip reassuringly. At least he didn’t have to worry about his opinion of him. Bruce knew he was many years past any urge to kiss his archenemy, and this Bruce’s pass last night had only made him want his own Bruce even more. 

He took a breath, and then squinted, and he made a sweeping search of the Manor and the grounds. He found what he was looking for, he saw that Clark Wayne had taken Xander Luthor for a stroll outside and they were chatting.

He stood up and then walked over to the window and gazed out. He had a clear view of one of the gardens as the couple outside walked into view. He wondered aloud, “How well do you and your brother know Xander?”

The alternate Bruce came over and he looked out the window too. He saw his brother out there. He frowned and asked, “How did you know where they’d gone?”

From behind them, still seated, Bruce revealed with a smirk, “X-ray vision.”

The brother’s eyes widened at the revelation of another of the powers his brother was going to have. Then he looked out the window, and cleared his throat. Then he revealed, “We know Xander well enough, but we’re not buddies or anything.” He glanced sideways, “Last night you asked if he was a bad guy.”

He nodded once, “We have some trouble with him on our world.” He licked his lips and admitted, “We were close once but life took us on different paths.” 

His Bruce uttered, “All it takes is one moment to change a life or a world. The evidence is right before us.”

It was true, a truck driver losing control of a semi, or even closer to home, a piece of blue Kryptonite in a pocket. He mused, “I wonder what changed in Lex’s life.”

The other Bruce revealed, “I guess the biggest thing that happened in Xander’s life was when his dad died when he was a kid.”

He turned and looked at his Bruce with surprise. “Lionel died when he was little?”

“Yeah, me, and Clark were toddlers I don’t remember anything about it but our mother and father talked about it when they were considering our education.” He shrugged, “Our mom said Xander’s mom Lillian had taken Xander out of Excelsior Prep as soon as Lionel was dead, and didn’t that tell them something about the school.”

“So he was raised by his mother, so she didn’t die?”

“No, she’s alive and well as far as I know.”

Out the window, he watched Xander and Clark Wayne talking. He wondered if anything would come of it. There might be a chance with a Lex raised without the shadow of Lionel standing over him, a chance if Clark Wayne was open to it. His brother asked, “That power from before, that super-hearing, you have it too, what are they saying?”

He blinked slowly and told him, “I don’t invade people’s privacy, without good reason.”

"This is a good reason, I need to know what they’re saying.” he exclaimed.

With a touch of annoyance, Clark replied snidely, “You saw what Lex wanted last night, you know your brother better that anyone, guess what he’s saying.”

He heard a tut-tut, and he turned and he saw his own Bruce shaking his head. Clark frowned, and Bruce raised his eyes to the ceiling. Clark sighed. He understood what he was saying, they knew each other better than anyone did but there had still been mysteries between them until last night.

He turned back and saw Xander reach out tentatively and he saw Clark Wayne allow his touch. Beside him, Clark’s brother bristled with indignation. He whispered, “What is it about you and Luthor?”

He had the urge to answer, to say Lex no longer filled Clark’s head and heart and that a different man had now taken over the place that Lex had left deserted years earlier. Actually, that man had taken his place many years ago, he just hadn’t realised it. He smiled at his best friend. He didn’t say the words, the assurance would be meaningless to these brothers, for that exact reason, they were brothers. No matter the pass, that one brother had made to him last night, and the jealousy he was consumed with. 

Eventually, Clark Wayne returned to the breakfast room. He had an air of bemusement about him. His brother tried to get the gossip out of him, but he only shook his head, and said quietly, “I’ve got to figure it out myself first.”

His brother wasn’t happy, so he suggested harshly, “We’ve got other bigger things to figure out first.”

Clark Wayne’s bemusement faded away at the reminder.

~*~

It was after breakfast, and they had adjourned to the cave for safety precautions. Bruce suggested, “Why don’t you try something easier than super-hearing to begin with?”

He remembered each power being scary and hard at first until he got used to them but none of them was easy, but his parents had got him through. Even without personal knowledge of the powers himself, Jonathan Kent had eased him through the fear. He wished Thomas Wayne had done the same for his son instead of finding a way to block the powers instead. It occurred to Clark that a doctor had set out to cure, while a salt of the earth farmer had dug in and endured. 

His focus returned to his friend, “Easier?” he asked.

His friend nodded knowingly, “How about super strength?”

Clark shrugged, “Okay.”

Then he walked over to the brothers. There was still a little tension between them from earlier. Clark couldn’t help them with that, but he could help them with what he knew about having powers. The greatest thing about having powers were the excitement of using them. He smiled widely, and then he admitted, “I think I’ve been going about this wrong.”

The brother’s frowned at him. Clark chuckled, “Let’s play catch.” 

He super-speeded across the cave, over to the plinth where the alternate Batmobiles were. He picked the one with the gold accents up. The brothers were shocked by the show of strength, but not shocked enough no stop Bruce crying out, “That one’s mine.”

His own Bruce laughed, and he went over, and grasped the other Bruce’s arm, and pulled him out of the way and into a safe space in the cave. Then he winked over at him. Clark grinned and winked back. Then with a light toss, he chucked the Batmobile to Clark Wayne. The poor guy looked like a deer in headlights, but as the ton of metal alloy came at him, he instinctively caught it. For a second, it wobbled as he misjudged the balance but he got it under control.

Forgetting his pique from earlier, his brother clapped for him, but grumbled, “Why’d it have to be my ride?”

His Bruce told him, “Because it is yours, my Clark knew he'd be more careful.”

Clark nodded along, loving the fact that Bruce got him. He returned his gaze to his counterpart, “Now throw it back.”

And so he did. Back and forth and back and forth until Clark Wayne was enjoying it and his confidence was growing. However suddenly a toss went wide, and Clark had to chase it. He chased it into mid-air, and then floated there for a few seconds. And just like that, the brothers were in awe again. “Wow.” Bruce exclaimed. But Clark was looking worried again. 

He floated the vehicle back on its plinth. He shrugged. “I did tell you about the flying, I know I did.”

Bruce returned to his brother's side, and Clark returned to his Bruce, he uttered, “It was going so well.”

“Don’t give up, keep going.” his best friend urged with a twinkled in his eye. 

Clark tilted his head, and asked wryly, “What…?”

His friend shook his head, “I’m so used to your powers now, it’s funny to see our reflections so…”

He finished for him, “In awe.”

Bruce shook his head, “No, Clark I’m always in awe of you.”

They met each other’s gaze intensely, and for a moment, it was as if they were going to close the gap between them, but then the other Bruce called, “What else can you do?”

~*~ 

He watched as Clark Wayne made icicles from the drips coming off the stalagmites of the cave with his breath. His brother was standing beside him watching in awe like a little kid at Christmas. Clark smiled, happy that his friend’s suggestion had worked, and then he glanced around, and caught sight of his Bruce; he was over by the see-through cases that held the brothers’ matching uniforms. Both suits were in there now.

He walked on over and gazed at them too. He said, “It’s strange to think, he’s going to be unstoppable, with my powers and your skillset.”

Bruce nodded along, but then he said quietly, “It might hold him back.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I don’t know if their training was extensive as mine, but if it was anything like it…” He faltered.

He urged, “Yeah?”

“I already have to hold back, restrict what I was taught to match my own morals. I think to have your powers would be a terrible burden.” 

He frowned, and he replied, “They are a responsibility, but it’s not that bad.”

His beloved friend turned and met his gaze, “That’s because of your inner strength, and goodness; you don’t want to hurt people.”

He tilted his head towards his friend and confidant and confided, “I sometimes want to hurt people; I’m not that pure of heart.”

“I know.” Bruce uttered. Clark nudged him with his shoulder for that remark, and Bruce smirked, “I mean I know you’ve got all the passions of a red-blooded man.” He uttered, “I know there’s controlled anger there too, or you wouldn’t actively look for trouble. I know that anger very well. Nevertheless, as you told them, you had a lifetime to understand and learn that kind of control.”

He uttered back, “And if it was you with that lifetime, you wouldn’t think they were a burden.”

Bruce eyed him sideways, “If I had a lifetime of powers, I’d have been you and not Batman.”

He liked the idea of Bruce flying around with his handsome face uncovered, and happy, helping people just because he could. Clark realised that he wanted to make Bruce happy. They caught each other’s gaze, and Clark gazed at him softly. His best friend murmured quietly, “What…?”

He shook his head suddenly bashful. He denied, “Nothing.” Then Clark’s gaze found the two brothers, and he returned, “Or the other way around, I’d have been you.”

His friend glanced back up at the uniforms, “I’d have liked to see you wearing it.” He uttered.

He smiled, “Maybe he’ll put it on if you ask him.”

Bruce murmured, “No, I said I’d like to see you in it.” Clark let out an unconscious quiet growl. He saw his friend lick his lips hungrily in reaction, as he turned around and then he said with an arched eyebrow, “As I said all the passions.”

A warm feeling began at his belly, he knew he’d missed the signs of his best friend wanting him for a long time, but now every word and every nuance screamed his friend’s feelings for him. He nodded along, and then he leaned in and he kissed him and showed him that growing passion that he had for him. He felt Bruce surrender to his lips, and he felt his hands come up and cup his jaw. Their mouths opened for each other. 

They were just getting into it when from across the cave, his counterpart questioned, “What the hell…?”

 

To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

TITLE: Twain 12  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,619  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce talk about the future.

~S~

It was difficult pulling away from each other, but they did and they turned to meet their judgement. The other Bruce Wayne was watching them with the curiosity that he had admitted to him last evening. Clark Wayne however looked almost appalled at what was in front of him. He didn’t know why but Clark found the humour of the situation, and he licked his lips and snorted with amusement at the offended look on his reflection’s face. Lowly, his kissing partner warned, “Clark.”

He shook his head, glanced at him, and said with mock contrite, “Sorry baby.”

Bruce rolled his eyes at him.

From across the cave, the other Clark muttered, “Shit.”

He watched Bruce meet the other’s two’s gaze, and without explaining the newness of this more intimate level of their relationship between them, he shrugged, “I did say that we were close.”

Clark Wayne winced, and then glanced at his brother. His brother met his gaze a long moment, studying his brother, and then shrugged it off, “Forget it, it doesn’t matter what they do.”

Clark Wayne’s smile appeared and he said, “You’re right.”

“I always am.” The other Bruce uttered cheekily.

His brother shook his head, and then went to lean in for a hug, but then his eyes found them, and he pulled away self-consciously. Clark wondered what Clark Wayne would think if he knew that, his brother wasn’t as appalled as he was at the thought of them together. What would he think if he could see the passion in his brother’s eyes when he was looking at him last night, wanting to share a night with a man who looked so much like his brother?

He glanced at his own Bruce, and caught the same thoughts on his face. Bruce coughed, and then suggested, “How about a break, we can get back to the lessons later.”

~*~

Later, they ate their lunch in the dining room. Both their counterparts kept looking at them, but each with a different kind of scrutiny. Clark Wayne’s looks were as if they were some sort of science experiment that had gone wrong, trying to figure out how their feelings for each other were so drastically different to his own. The other Bruce Wayne’s looks were a combination of fascination and curiosity. 

Clark and Bruce glanced each other’s way now and again, sometimes with amusement shining in their eyes and sometimes a wave of feeling put on the spot, unease in a place of refuge, in the Manor that looked so much like their own. Clark chuckled around his fork, at his own claiming of the Manor in his mind. Everyone around the table turned to look at him. He shook his head and said to his own Bruce, “Haven’t we got these silver forks at our house?”

Bruce’s eyes widened for a second, and he heard a soft harrumph under his breath. Then he shrugged, “Yeah they look the same.”

~B~

It was even later, nighttime and he was out on the streets of Gotham. He’d asked permission to use one of the Batmobiles or whatever their counterparts called their vehicles, though he wasn’t sure if that would’ve stopped him coming out anyway. He knew it was crazy, preferring the dangerous streets of this strange Gotham to the claustrophobic confines of the echoic halls of the huge mansion that was the mirror image of his home. 

He knew Clark could find him anywhere; it was usually a comforting thought, now it worried him. He’d spent years watching him, he knew Clark could be as shy and mild-mannered as he portrayed in public, to find him so aggressive, the way he had easily accepted Bruce’s feelings for him, and now it seemed Clark was pursuing him. Earlier at lunch, he had even called the Manor ‘our house’.

It was the culmination of his deepest hopes, but now he didn’t know what to do with it now he had it. 

A part of him thought that maybe he’d have been better off if Clark hadn’t found out at all. The thing was if this relationship were part of his façade, he’d know what to do. He knew that part well; he could seduce, and sweep him off his feet, and lavish sexual pleasure on him. Except then he could walk away with feeling almost no guilt, because the strength of his feelings wasn’t there. He couldn’t do that with his best friend.

“I don’t know what to do.” He uttered to the night.

“You don’t know what to do about what?” the beloved voice behind him asked.

He breathed deeply, knowing by heart the sight floating behind him. He turned. His breath caught and his eyes widened taking in the sight there. The figure in black with blue accents stepped down out of the sky onto the street, and the black cape twirled. He met aquamarine eyes contrasted by the surrounding black cowl, his full sensuous lips quirked as he tried to maintain the effect.

Batman asked lowly, and in awe, “What are you doing?”

His mirror image tilted his head, and then strode towards him, “I’m fulfilling your wish, Batman.”

He breathed through his nose, as he remembered telling his friend that he wished he could see him dressed in Clark Wayne’s uniform. His previous troubling thoughts faded to black, and something physical took over. He complimented lowly, “You look fabulous.”

That smile couldn’t be contained any longer, and it flashed out at him bright and white. He replied huskily, “I’m so glad you approve.”

Batman reached out and he ran his leather clad hand over the black hard material covering Clark’s chest, over the blue bat symbol. “I do.”

His mirror image cupped him behind his cowl covered head with his gauntlet covered hand and he brought their mouths together. 

Even though they’d kissed for a long time last night, it was still shocking to feel Clark’s lips against his; the moistness of his friend’s mouth as his tongue sneaked in between his lips, tasting him after wanting it for so long. He returned the kiss ravenously. 

When his senses returned after what seemed like eons of pleasure, he muttered against his lips, “We shouldn’t be doing this on the street.”

Clark brushed his lips against his sensually and then replied, “You’re right.”

Then there was a light breeze and the sensation of lightness as they took off and his friend flew them up into the air. He smiled, and then he resumed their kisses, as their twin black capes flapped about, and then coiled around them and enclosed them together. 

It was a fantasy that he never knew he had, but he indulged in it, as his friend indulged him.

Within the confines of the matching Batsuits, they were restricted to kissing, though their arousal was almost too much to bear and when they couldn’t kiss anymore, they hovered there gazing at each other with the full shining moon as their backdrop. Clark smiled softly at him, he’d smiled at him with fondness and affection throughout their friendship, but now there was a new layer to it, an intimacy though they hadn’t been intimate yet.

Then Clark cocked his cowl covered head, and with years of experience Batman knew, “There’s an emergency.”

Clark nodded, and Batman told him, “You better go.”

That dazzlingly smile flashed at him again, and he revealed, “It’s in Gotham, Superman isn’t allowed in Gotham.”

Batman groaned deep in his chest, at the teasing and uttered, surprising his friend, “Superman’s not here, we better go then.”

Clark laughed with surprise, and parroted playfully, “We better go then.”

He held on and then twin Batmen were flying into action. 

~*~

They spent the rest of the night finding people to help, and scaring the shit out of criminals who never heard that the infamous Knights of Gotham had superpowers. They deposited the criminals at the Gotham Police Precinct and Bruce was relieved to see Jim was in charge in this universe too. He imagined Sgt Gordon comforting two little boys in an alley in this world. 

After the sirens and sounds of Gotham quietened, Clark returned him to the Batmobile. They weren’t in any rush to go back to the looking-glass Wayne Manor and so they sat on the body of the armoured vehicle and talked. Though it was in contrast to the Batsuit he wore, Clark chuckled, “Once word gets around, the bad guys will be more worried that ever. When we get home, I could do the same in your Gotham if you want.”

“Over the years the mystique of Batman has definitely lessened, something like that could renew it a bit.” He smiled, and admitted, “It was really fun.”

He watched as Clark rubbed his leather clad fingertip against the hood of the vehicle they were sitting on. His friend uttered thoughtfully, “Do you think that that’s what it’s like for them working together like that?”

“Yes but it’s a little different without superpowers.” He concurred.

“I guess you know about that already.” His friend replied.

He revealed dourly, “I did, until my sidekick decided to take a sabbatical.”

His friend encouraged, “It’s in his blood. He’ll be back. People like us can never stay away from it too long.”

“Maybe.” he conceded.

Clark smiled wryly, “What will he think if he does come back and finds me down the hall.” Batman gazed at him a long moment, and then Clark held his gaze, then licked his lips, and suggested, “Or in the master bedroom.”

Batman closed his eyes and he groaned softly, and confessed, “You… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you.”

His friend leaned in closer, and murmured, “I thought with all your experience, I’d be in for a…”

He opened his eyes, and he shook his head, “This is what I mean, I don’t want to spoil this, and I’m scared that I will.”

Clark’s jaw tightened, and he said with emotion, “You won’t spoil anything, I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t work out, and then I’ve ruined our relationship and our friendship.” He said with reservations.

His friend reached out and cupped his face, and he coaxed, “I promise you, we’ll always be friends no matter what.”

His friend was being wonderfully reassuring; it was that hopefulness in the face of doom that set him apart to begin with. Clark uttered, “You’ve shown me another way to be, you’ve already given me something to look to the future with. As my past has come to a dead stop. I want to share the future with you, Bruce.”

“How can you be so sure, Clark, you’ve only just found out about how I feel, maybe…” he trickled to a stop.

Clark tilted his cowl covered head and caught his gaze, “Maybe what?”

“Maybe this is just about grasping for the first lifeline that’s come along.” He said with the edge of fear in his voice.

His superhero teammate’s eyes that were highlighted by the black cowl narrowed steely, “You know me better than anyone, you really think I’d…” Clark must’ve seen the fear in his eyes because his gaze softened, and he consoled, “I know it might seem fast, but that’s because it feels so right, it’s so easy because you know me, and I know you, and none of that usual relationship stuff applies to us. I don’t have to worry about trusting you, because I already do. I don’t have to worry about you because I know you can look after yourself.” Clark blinked slowly, and for a second he appeared bashful, “I don’t feel shy with you B, I like kissing you, you’ve turned me on, I want to experience more of you.”

Batman took a shaky breath, some of his worries had been eased, and he couldn’t help himself, he confessed, “I want you to stay with me, just like our counterparts want to stay together.”

Clark sighed, “I want to, but I haven’t even had chance to figure out a new identity or anything.”

He reached out his leather gloved hand, and held Clark’s, he suggested, “We could follow their lead, you could stay with me at the Manor, be part of my life, and if you wanted to you could choose any career, even keep writing if that’s what you wanted.”

Clark chuckled softly, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

He grimaced, “No, I’m not, not yet, not so soon. We need to see if we fit together first.”

His friend replied huskily, “I think we’ll fit together perfectly.”

Under the cowl, he felt himself blush at his cheekiness. He deferred, “We better get back.”

~S~

He had left Batman to drive home, and now Clark was in the changing room. He was attempting to remove the Batsuit that he had put on to surprise Bruce tonight. It was a little kinky, dressing up for his… wow, he didn’t even have a name for what they were yet- friend, yeah friend was a safe and correct term at the moment. He knew he spent a lot of his time wearing one costume or another, but they were his own costumes, his own identities, but he’d dressed up in a copy of his friend’s uniform, because of Bruce’s comment in the cave earlier. 

It had been strangely thrilling, not the suit itself, the cowl was definitely not his thing. He’d never liked masks, and had been determined never to wear one. No, the thrill was seeing the look in Bruce’s eyes as he’d turned around and saw him. He saw the arousal for him that he had missed witnessing before. He knew he’d made him happy tonight, played out his fantasy for him. It had been fun tonight too, it reminded him of that party that he attended as Clark Wayne, and how he’d felt out of place there without Bruce across the room or at his side. tonight had been their kind of fun, playing with personas and enjoying their connection, fighting crime and just talking to each other.

He twisted, grunted with frustration, and sighed. Damn it, he couldn’t get the damned suit off. It had been easy to put it on, but now the fastenings wouldn’t release. The cowl had come off, he’d been taught how to remove Bruce’s in case of emergencies a long time ago, but he couldn’t get the damned body suit off. He knew that he actually could get it off, if he was willing to rip it to shreds, but he didn’t want to do that. He knew Bruce had a few backups and knew that the brothers did too but… 

His internal ramblings came to a halt as the powerful engine roared into the cave. He heard it power down. He felt conspicuous and a bit silly, as he waited for his friend to enter the changing area. He followed his footfalls and then he heard him come to a stop a few feet behind him. There was silence, and Clark turned and met his gaze. He saw Bruce’s eyes rake over him, as if it was the first time out on the street but even more so. He frowned and then he finally realised the reason for the duplication of his friend’s admiration. He reached up and he ran his fingers through his own messy black hair. He saw a perceptible rise and fall of Batman’s chest. 

Clark smiled bashfully, “I couldn’t get it off.”

 

To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

TITLE: Twain 13  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,571  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce show their passion, will Clark get what he wants from Bruce.

~S~

Batman’s lips quirked at the edges, and then he removed his own cowl. Clark gave him the same kind of consideration he had just given him, and he watched Bruce glance away almost shyly.

Then he put his cowl down and then he removed his gauntlets. He licked his lips with nerves or arousal, or maybe both. Then he approached, and he reached out, and he tugged something at Clark’s waist, he reached around and did the same at both his shoulders. Clark looked at him so close, and Bruce glanced into his eyes and then away, as his hands slid down to and tugged at something high between his thighs. Clark swallowed hard, and he murmured huskily, “I’ll have to remember all that when I have to get you out of your suit.”

He watched Bruce’s nostrils flare, and then Bruce circled him, and then from behind, he grasped the strong material at his collar, and then he peeled it down Clark’s torso. As that fabric left his waist, all movement stopped just below the small of his back. Clark waited for him to continue but he didn’t make a move. “What’s wrong?” he uttered over his shoulder.

He felt the caress of hesitant hands between his shoulder blades. Then a whisper caressed his skin, it was as solemn as a prayer, “I’ve wanted this, to do this for so long, and now I’m afraid to touch you.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“Because you’re real. You told me that you expect me to be good at… it. I don’t know what to do when something is real, when it means too much to get it wrong.”

His skin tingled at his friend’s touch, and he whispered back, “It could be a disaster; we could both be clumsy and come too soon…” He laughed softly despite the serious moment, “But with you Bruce, it would still be perfect.”

He felt Bruce’s forehead pressed to his nape, before he muttered, “You’re crazy do you know that?”

“Crazy enough to love you.” he smiled his reply.

Then Bruce found his inner strength and his hands skated around, and found his chest. Over his nipples, they roamed and Clark instinctively arched back against him. “Oh god.” he sighed feeling those sensual hands on him. 

“That’s how I felt when you touched me in bed last night.” Bruce revealed.

Clark grinned, and teased, “I thought you were asleep.”

“No, you didn’t.” was the husky reply.

Then Bruce’s hands stroked down his torso, and his body arched needing his touch. He knew his teammate’s hands were accomplished and dextrous in many things, and here too they were skilled. He rested his head against Bruce’s shoulder as his friend’s hands continued down, under the black material of the Batsuit, down past his belly and they caressed both sides of his groin. He shuddered under his ministrations. Bruce was right; this was so real between them. His own hands caressed their way along Bruce’s strong forearms, and covered his naked caressing hands down under the material, holding his friend’s hands there. Because it was the truth, he moaned, “I told you, you’re perfect.”

His friend’s hands came back up, caressing his increasingly hot skin and caught the black fabric at his waist, and he dragged it down to his feet. His friend’s hands then caressed and assessed him all the way from his ankles, up his calves, his thighs, his ass cheeks, and his waist before releasing him. He hoped Bruce’s verdict was a good one. Clark whined softly at the loss of his touch. He toed off the boots, and bent over and snagged the fabric from his ankles. Behind him, he heard an unfamiliar noise that was half growl half whimper. He half straightened up, and turned and found Bruce was doing his best not to look at him now. Having Bruce’s intense gaze on him was arousing but recognising his restraint made Clark feel so special, knowing that he’d been restraining himself for years. He wondered how often Bruce had looked at him over the years without him knowing. He realised that he wanted his eyes on him, that it made him feel so great to be desired so. 

“Bruce.” he called softly to him. “You can look all you want.”

“Look.” His best friend replied gravelly, “I want to do more than look.”

“Do what you want to do to me, I want you to.” He told him.

Bruce met his gaze, hearing his permission to touch him, finally after his self-denial. He saw intense heat there; if Bruce had been a Kryptonian, he knew his eyes would be alight with fire right now.

Suddenly there was movement, Bruce stepped forward, he pulled Clark backwards, and he kissed Clark’s nape with his lips, and his tongue and his teeth. His body trembled as Bruce pressed a series of kisses down his spine, and then he was on his knees behind him and his kisses worked insistently down the small of his back to the valley of his ass cheeks, and then his mouth was down there. Clark moaned loudly, and he reflexively arched his back into it. He mewed, “This…?”

A low satisfied hum against him was his only reply.

He felt sluttish as he held still for that tongue. 

Bruce growled lowly against him in response. As his tongue savoured him, his fingertips pressed into the flesh of his hips, would’ve left bruises on anyone else. Damn, Bruce’s passion had gone from tentative to full on within seconds, and it felt sinful and so divine at the same time. Clark reached back, and he held the back of his best friend’s dark head, curled his fingers into his dark hair making it messy, wanting him to continue giving him that pleasure. “God yes that’s good.” he moaned.

But after a few moments, Bruce strained to pull away and Clark let him. Bruce stood up and met his gaze with kiss bruised lips. Bruce looked somewhat awkward after what he’d just been doing however, Clark smiled lecherously, and he grabbed him and kissed that sin giving mouth. Bruce moaned, and returned the kiss hungrily, threading his own fingers through and messing Clark’s black hair. 

He ended the kiss. Then he caught his gaze so close, and murmured with moist lips, “Your turn.”

He saw excitement dance in his eyes but Bruce shook his head, as his hands went to tug his own uniform off, and Clark smiled wolfishly and murmured, “You’re stopping again... after what you just did?”

“As I said, I’ve waited a long time for this.” Seeing Clark’s sly intention in his eyes, he pleaded softly, “I still want to wait until we get home.”

~*~

The following morning, they were back in the cave, he saw Bruce’s gaze stray to the Batsuit that Clark had worn last night. He remembered the feeling of his best friend’s hands touching him, feeling his breath on his neck and his own skin pressed against the armour of the Batsuit. He remembered lying next to him late last night in bed being so virtuous, just holding each other, restraining their passion from erupting in a strange bed. 

He breathed deeply, and he turned, and said loudly so the brothers would hear, “Speaking of passions, the next ability we need to go over is heat-vision. This is a very dangerous power, because unlike most of the others it’s not just controlled by conscious thought. It can manifest when your feelings get on top of you.” He felt Bruce watching him from the side, “Anger is something that really needs to be controlled, just an instant of being unfocused can be lethal, the same goes for your more earthly desires. Your passion can inflame your vision easily.” 

He could still feel Bruce watching him; he tilted his head and murmured, “So you better be careful.”

He heard a rumble from Bruce’s chest, and then he said, “I think I got a visual the other night.”

He didn’t know what Bruce meant by that, but they didn’t have time to talk about it now. He cleared his throat. Then he went over to the icicle that had been created by Clark Wayne’s freezing-breath yesterday, and he focused his eyes. The icicle melted, and turned to steam. He smiled proudly, even after all these years of having the power; it was still satisfying to be able to control it. Then he turned back to his audience, “There, now see if you can do it.”

Clark Wayne took a harsh breath, and then he focused on another icicle. He concentrated but nothing happened. Clark urged, “Okay, think of something sexy, something that would turn you on.”

His counterpart looked sceptical but he tried, he saw the beginnings of an amber glow in his iris but it fizzled out before it could ignite. He suggested, “What about your girlfriends Julie and Vicki, think about spending time with them.”

His breath quickened but whatever he was thinking about didn’t quite ignite. Clark glanced around at the two Bruces’ and shrugged, he was out of ideas, he didn’t know them that well to suggest anything. Then he watched as the alternate Bruce stepped up behind his brother and murmured, “Remember that night that it was just you, me and Julie at the beach house.”

Suddenly, Clark’s eyes flamed to red passion. The heat blasted straight through the icicle into the rock wall and continued its glare. In shock, Clark Wayne cried out in fear, “Bruce help me…” and turned to face his brother.

Clark Kent moved into super-speed, and put himself in between the brothers, at the same time; he cupped Clark’s head and pressed his face into his chest using himself as a shield. The power of the blast took him off his feet, and he ended up sprawled on the floor of the cave with his student laid over him. The heat vision stopped as Clark Wayne screwed his eyes closed in fear.

Then his Bruce was skidding to his knees beside him asking, “Are you alright Clark?”

He nodded to his friend. He was a little singed, he was just grateful Clark Wayne hadn’t been able to summon up his full power or else the humans here would be dead.

Then Clark Wayne was clinging to him, and Clark felt the wetness of tears seep through his burnt shirt. He heaved a sigh and he hugged the frightened man to him, and soothingly rubbed his back. He glanced over and he saw Clark’s brother looking on, shock, fear, and helplessness there stark on his face.

He motioned with his head to him, and then he took a faltering step and then he was falling to his knees, and his arms surrounded his brother, he cooed, “It’s okay Clark, it’s going to be okay.”

Suddenly, Clark Wayne hefted himself up out of Clark’s arms and collapsed into his brother’s. Bruce hugged his brother as if his life depended on it, and in a way, it almost did. He heard Clark whimper, “I don’t want them. I almost killed you, please I don’t want them.”

Clark met his friend’s eyes, and he could read sympathy, and something like bleak acceptance there. He got up off the floor, and Bruce stood up with him. He wiped at his ruined shirt and said, “I think it’s going to take a while.”

His analytical friend said, “I hate to suggest it, especially after what happened to us last week, but those injections were killing him because the blue K was internal. An outside source would let them continue their normal lives without the side effects.”

He wanted to champion the idea that it was only day two, and Clark Wayne needed time to get used to it, just as he himself had needed time to accept his destiny, but the obvious thing was that although they had much in common, he and Clark Wayne were different people. Clark Wayne had found a way to be a hero without powers, and it was only right to allow him to continue that life however, he wanted. He had learned to survive without powers, just as his own best friend had. He nodded thoughtfully, and then said, “You have the small sample of blue K in your utility belt; you make him the offer of it if you think that’s for the best.”

Bruce frowned in concern, and said, “It was only a suggestion.”

He looked across at the terrified sobbing man and his shaken brother. “I know, and it was a good one. I’ve had my life altered against my wishes recently. I don’t want to force it on him when he has an alternative.”

~B~

The sirens sounded, echoing around the cavernous black rock, and then the twirling mass of space and magical energy opened, and they stepped out. It closed behind them, and Batman turned to his companion, and said sardonically, “Home sweet home.”

His best friend knowing how he really felt about not just Gotham or the Manor but more importantly the people who made it home, Clark played along and chuckled, “Home is where the heart is.”

He shook his cowl covered head with affection, “Actually my heart was with me all along.”

Bright eyes smiled at him, as he branded him, “Sap.”

Any other time, anyone else, and he’d have been annoyed at the accusation, but right now with this man, he couldn’t be. He shrugged it off. He went and turned off the sirens. Then the beloved sentinel appeared at the top of the stairs with a shotgun poised ready to defend this home. He called, “It’s okay, Alfred, it’s us.”

The older man broke the gun, and lowered it. He said with gentlemanly restraint, “It is good to have you home, both of you.”

Clark smiled in reaction to being included in the welcome, and replied, “Thanks Alfred it’s so good to see you too.”

He saw composed fondness on Alfred’s face. He motioned to the stairs, “Let’s get settled back in, and we’ll update you on our adventures. Alfred disappeared back through the entry. Then Bruce turned and headed to the changing area to remove the Batsuit.

His best friend called, “You want some help?”

He warned quietly, “Clark?”

Clark said playfully, “I won’t peek.”

He pointed to outside the changing area, “Stay here.”

“Yes sir.” Clark teased.

Bruce shook his head and entered the changing room. Then Clark spoke from outside, “You know, I don’t think sharing you with someone else would turn me on.”

Bruce frowned, and asked, “What are you talking about; you don’t have to share me.”

His best friend chuckled, “That’s good to know. Anyway, I was talking about our counterparts. It was remembering having a threesome with his brother that turned on the heat-vision.”

As he got changed, he shrugged to himself, and replied, “Maybe he was upset about us because he didn’t want face his own feelings.”

“Maybe, I just think a threesome would make me jealous, not turned on.”

Bruce’s chest heaved, and he smiled, “You never have to be jealous Clark, ever.”

 

To be continued


	14. Chapter 14

TITLE: Twain 14  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,629  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce continue to explore the new terms of their relationship. 

~B~

Later in the kitchen, Bruce revealed, “And so in the end, he decided to keep the blue Kryptonite, to keep his powers at bay and so they could continue as him and his brother and their Alfred had always been.”

The older man sighed, “I have seen many things in this lifetime, done things I never expected, however it must have been hard work raising both of you at the same time.”

Bruce said, “Two heroes at that.”

Alfred raised his eyebrow subtly. “You two are fully grown heroes but still you are hard work nevertheless.”

Clark smiled, and then said earnestly, “I’ve seen alternate universes where I wasn’t raised by my mom and dad, and it didn’t turn out that great. It was so good to know there are some places out there where I was raised by other good people.”

Alfred’s mask of decorum almost faltered in the face of such commendation. Clark reached out and touched the guardian’s hand, and squeezed gently, and said, “If I didn’t have the Kent’s, I couldn’t have hoped for a better backup.”

The older man swallowed hard not used to affection shown in such a physical way; however, then he squeezed Clark’s hand in return. Alfred’s jaw strained, but he couldn’t speak. For a moment, Bruce felt guilty that Alfred was so unused to that kind of openness which Clark displayed that he didn’t know how to respond to it. Then Alfred let go and segued, “I shall have to make something nice for your dinner to celebrate your return.” then he stood up, about to get busy.

At the word celebrate, Clark’s eyes found his, and then he mouthed, “You want to tell him?”

Bruce’s eyes widened with surprise and a little fear. He’d spent a long time, stewing in his own juices of his feelings for his best friend. The fact his friend was open to a relationship with him was big enough, but now Clark wanted to throw caution to the wind, and tell the world about their private feelings, well okay, not the whole world but Alfred… God he couldn’t move that fast, his friend with super-speed was trying to whip up a storm of emotions. 

Then just as suddenly, Clark blinked slowly with some kind of clairvoyance. Then he shrugged, and mouthed soothingly, “It’s okay another time.”

~*~

After being away for the last few days, they separated to see about their own business. Bruce didn’t know exactly what Clark was doing, as he no longer had a day job. However, Bruce himself checked his computer for anything needing his attention. He checked his messages. He had a look into the files of Metropolis Police Department to see if any progress had been made in the investigation into Clark Kent’s murder. 

The news wasn’t good, there was no evidence left in the stolen car to link anyone to the crime, though everyone knew it was Intergang; it was just that no one could prove it. After that disappointment, he checked in with Lucius. Speaking to the custodian of Wayne Enterprises reminded him of his ideas that he’d had for Clark’s future. He hadn’t spoken to Clark about them yet, but he thought it was a good idea to get Lucius’ opinion first, to make sure it was viable. 

So he changed into a suit and tie, and then drove to the city. He parked in the private garage and went up to reception. He found out there that Lucius was down in R&D, so he joined him down there for privacy.

~*~

Later on, he was in his office signing some documents that his CEO needed signing. He’d talked things over with his trusted advisor, and though Lucius said it was very tough, and not legal, he had accepted that it wasn’t an immoral thing, it wouldn’t hurt anyone, so he’d figure out the logistics. He’d give the man a raise but he knew money wasn’t everything to a man like Lucius Fox.

As he was getting ready to leave, a flash of red was caught in his peripheral vision. Seconds later, it returned more slowly, and Superman was gazing at him from outside the floor length windows. Superman tilted his stunning head in question, and Bruce laughed. He walked over to the windows, and opened them. Superman floated over, and asked, “What are you doing in there?”

Bruce shook his head with amusement, “Doing Bruce Wayne things. What are you doing?”

Superman rolled his eyes with a smile, “I’ve been patrolling, looking for a job for Superman.” Then he asked, “Are you working late?”

He denied, “No I’m going home now.”

His friend nodded along, and suggested, “Do you want me to take you home?”

“My car is downstairs.”

“So...?”

He sighed dramatically, “You want ole Brucie to swoon in your arms, like Lois Lane.”

Superman snorted, “Lois doesn’t swoon, and she’d knock you out if you said that she did.” He added wryly, “Anyway, if Bruce Wayne is manlier than Batman is…”

Bruce squinted at him.

“Well Batman didn’t have any complaints last night.” Superman goaded.

His mind returned to what they did during and after that patrol. He reminded himself that he’d held Clark off until they got home, and here they were home. Well, a few miles away. Part of him was in a rush to get home and another part was antsy and wanted to stretch the wait out longer. 

Then Superman suggested, “I could walk you home.”

“Walk?” he wondered.

His friend motioned out into thin air. He revealed, “Just hold my hand and we can walk.”

The idea was ludicrous and fantastic at the same time. Bruce felt excitement. He nodded his assent, and then Superman held out his hand and Bruce took it, and he stepped out into the night and he and his best friend walked home together.

~*~

Superman’s hand radiated heat, and Bruce felt as warm as if he was down on land, and much safer. As they made a direct path for Wayne Manor, they turned and smiled at each other. He uttered, “I’ve been thinking about your future.”

Clark swung their hands together, and inquired, “You have?”

He licked his lips, and began his explanation, “I thought of it when we were across there, before we shared the bed, and it got more complicated. I told you I want you to live with me at the Manor, well my Uncle Philip’s been missing in action for years; most people won’t even remember him…”

“I’m a little young to return as your uncle, Bruce.” Clark sniggered softly.

He rolled his eyes at him for making this hard work, “I know, but what if Philip had a son while he was gone. What if that son came to Gotham to find out about his family and his heritage?”

Clark stared at him, and with realisation, he asked, “You really mean this. You want me to pretend to be your long lost cousin?”

He coaxed, “You have the build and colouring to be related to me, nobody would question that. You could live with me at Wayne Manor and nobody would question that either.”

His friend peered into the distance, looking thoughtful. He watched him blink, and watched him swallow, and he watched him take a deep breath. He watched with apprehension, he really wanted Clark with him. 

He was so close to being his.

Then finally, after waiting and watching his friend as he thought over his plan for his future. Superman squeezed his hand gently and said, “I’ve managed to be Superman, and have a life in plain sight. It worked because nobody was interested in Clark Kent the journalist, people didn’t pay attention to him. My whole mild mannered persona was so nobody would think of Clark and Superman in the same sentence.”

“I know all that.” he uttered.

Clark smiled, “I know. But what if someone did figure out that I was Superman, that Bruce Wayne’s cousin was Superman, it would blow your cover and ruin yours and Alfred’s life too.”

The knowledge that Clark’s apprehension was partly because of his caring and loyalty to him and Alfred made his love for him even deeper. He urged, “It’s a chance that I’m willing, and if you ask Alfred, he’d agree that we’re willing to take that chance, for you.”

His friend frowned, “It’s difficult thinking about it all. I got comfortable in my life. I can’t be someone who looks like Superman, and now I can’t be anyone who looks like the murdered journalist.”

He nodded and stopped walking through the air, making sure not to let go of his friend’s hand, “I know what you’re thinking. However, my cousin wouldn’t have to be a duplicate of Brucie, or even Clark Wayne. He wouldn’t have to be a subject of gossip, or be in the newspapers, or be a party animal; I’d deflect any kind of interest.” He reached up, and caressed his face, “No thick framed glasses, but you could wear coloured contact lenses, brown maybe to hide your beautiful aquamarine eyes. You could wear your hair tousled; nobody has ever seen Superman’s hair anything but perfect. You could be confident but not a show off, intelligent but quiet, much like your real personality…”

His friend reached out and covered his caressing hand with his, “You really think that it would work?”

~S~

To Clark’s query Bruce replied, “I’m an expert of public perception; yes I think it would work.” he said. 

It wasn’t a boast he knew that his friend had actually studied it. He tugged his hand, and they continued strolling. He found that he liked Bruce’s idea. A shy little smile came to lips, as he asked, “And what would I be called?”

“Mr Wayne.” Bruce replied deadpan.

Clark laughed, “You know what I mean.”

His friend chuckled too, “Well Clark’s a bit on the chin.”

He blinked slowly, and then he said, “I’d like something that would still connect me to my roots.”

“Well Callum maybe, but we don’t want to be too overconfident.” Bruce thought of something and then he laughed aloud. 

Clark’s gaze darted to him it was so rare that Bruce let his laughter spill out. “What?” he asked in astonishment.

He tittered, “Jonathan…?”

Clark narrowed his gaze with confusion until he got in sync, and he shook his head disapprovingly, “I’m not going to call myself John Wayne.”

Bruce tittered some more, and then he suggested, “What about your other dad, Jor… Jordan, maybe.”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but he didn’t dismiss the suggestion out of hand. Bruce asked, “Jordan Wayne?”

Clark shook his head, he uttered, “No, I was thinking… Joe.”

“Your middle name is Joseph.” He knew that Bruce knew everything about him.

He confirmed, “Yes it is, and it’s close to Jor-El, it honours the Kent’s and the House of El.”

Bruce smiled, and commented, “Average Joe, it suits you.”

He nodded along silently.

“So it’s Joseph Wayne, my long lost cousin?” he wondered.

Superman leaned in, and murmured against his lips, “Kissing cousin.” And then he kissed him intently.

After a few heart stopping moments, Bruce pulled back and doubled checked, “So we’re doing this?”

“It’s worth considering.” He concurred.

~*~

Halfway home, Bruce had got fed up of walking so cheekily Superman had swept him up into his arms and flown home. Now they were back, and the consummation of their relationship hung over them. They stepped out of the air and on to Bruce’s bedroom balcony.

As they entered the bedroom through the French windows, Clark smirked softly and then he took inventory of the burgundy decorated master bedroom again as he had done a few nights ago when he was in here, but this time he said what was on his mind. He smirked, “I guess I was right, red walls for passion.”

Suddenly, Bruce pulled him into his arms and muttered, “Shut up.” and then covered his mouth with his.

The kiss became hungry, and their tongues explored each other’s mouths. 

With excitement, Clark murmured against his lips, “Are you finally going to touch me now?”

His friend reached out and his palm rubbed over the House of El shield on his chest. His chest rose and fell at that touch, and even more as his fingers ran down the blue fabric covering his abs. He took a shaky breath, wondering if his hand was going to go lower. It didn’t, but Bruce moved around in a circle, his eyes feasting on him.

Then his dextrous hands found their way into his uniform, dividing the parts, pushing the top up and tugging the bottoms over his ass cheeks. Clark groaned, "Damn, are you going to do what you did last night?"

Bruce’s hand stilled, and he said hoarsely, “No, just go over to your bedroom and get rid of your uniform or your idea of a perfect time from last night might happen.”

He got the gist, and he teased, “Are you that eager for me?”

“Please.”

Superman returned to his bedroom to get changed and Clark grabbed a robe that he’d found in the en suite bathroom of his bedroom. He smiled with delight at Bruce telling him to rendezvous with him shortly. He put on the silky red robe and he waited for a few moments to make sure his soon to be lover was ready for him.

So Alfred didn’t catch him out, he stealthily made his way across the landing, and then eagerly re-entered Bruce’s bedroom. Clark glanced around. He saw Bruce was naked, before he grabbed his own robe and slipped into it, hiding his obvious growing excitement. 

Bruce turned towards the door, and their gazes locked. 

His best friend’s eyes betrayed his nerves; however, Clark found he wasn’t nervous at all. This man had told him that he loved him, and Clark believed him utterly. He was his best friend; there was no need to be nervous.

In the soft burgundy surroundings of Bruce Wayne’s bedroom, Clark Kent walked forward and he reached out, he took his best friend’s hand, the man he cared so deeply for, and he led him towards his own very large and comfortable bed. Clark sat down on the edge of the mattress, and he guided his friend to him. 

It was so crazy that they were doing this. It was so crazy that his friend had kept his passions at bay all this time. Clark had only recently discovered his amorousness for his friend, and he was only too eager to act on it. How frustrating must it have been for him to be so close yet so far out of reach? He knew that Bruce found outlets for his sexual urges, he remembered Julie’s cries of passion a few nights ago, he remembered Bruce’s tight-lipped hard thrusting, no crying out of his desire’s name. 

Suddenly everything became apparent, and he stared up at his soon to be lover. With wonderment, he asked, “It was me. You couldn’t cry out because it would’ve been me?”

The man who he knew loved him stared back, his brow creased. Obliquely he confessed with a breath, “Clark.”

Clark’s chest heaved as his heart squeezed and exploded with love and passion. He gasped with amazement, “Bruce, I love you.”

Bruce smiled a simple but glorious smile. “Didn’t you already tell me that?”

He mirrored that smile in return, “I guess it took my heart a little time to catch up.”

 

To be continued


	15. Chapter 15

TITLE: Twain 15  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,608  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce begin to fulfil each other’s desires.

~S~

Almost expectantly, but not bold enough yet to make any demands, Bruce gazed down at him. In silent awe, Bruce watched him as Clark untied Bruce’s dark robe, and he parted it. He saw Bruce’s muscled body shiver before he shrugged, and he let the robe fall from his shoulders. 

Then he was standing before him nude, like a flawed marbled sculpted hero. Clark took hold of his waist, and ran his thumb over a scar that was there. Then he pulled him closer, and his lips met the smooth unblemished skin next to it. For a second, he wished all of his teammate's body was as pristine as the skin under his lips, however he knew if that was the case, he wouldn’t be the man he knew, the man he loved, and the man he wanted to take to bed, and hear him cry out his name.

He let his own gaze find his lover’s erection, he thought it matched him perfectly, strong but with a sensitive quality, and daring as it pointed at him. It revealed to him how much his friend wanted him. For a moment, Clark questioned his own confidence in pleasing a man like Bruce Wayne. He didn’t want to imagine how many women had sucked it. He wondered about men, though Bruce had never hinted to his best friend about any sexual encounters with men over the years. He knew Bruce had said he wasn’t sure of his skill when it was something he wanted so much, but compared to his friend, Clark didn’t have that much experience of either persuasion. 

He chuckled softly at his own worries; there was only one way of overcoming his worries. He bowed his head and took Bruce’s cock head into his mouth. The fragrance of him and the taste of him filled his senses. His own sexual desire took over, and he groaned, and took more. Above him, Bruce mewed softly, Clark tilted his head back and met his eyes, and he ran his tongue up the length of the underside. He hummed as it grew in his mouth; he knew he must have been doing something right.

In response to his responsiveness, Clark’s eyes fluttered shut, and he concentrated on making his lover feel good. He licked the length of him and then flicked the head of his cock with his tongue. He felt Bruce’s hands come to cup his head in response, and heard him whisper, “Oh shit, oh Clark.”

A smile touched the corners of Clark’s lips, before he groaned and stretched his lips around it, filling his mouth with it. Bruce’s reactions made Clark bolder. He bobbed his head, and sucked the length over and over. He felt Bruce’s fingertips tighten on his scalp before Bruce made an unexpectedly deep thrust into his mouth. He almost gagged but recovered quickly, a zing of naughty pleasure shot through him, and he was ready for more, the experience of having his friend’s cock in his mouth was making his own cock harder. 

It was their first time together but he was so ready for Bruce to do anything he wanted to do with his mouth, whatever he wanted. But Bruce pulled away gently. 

As his cock withdrew and left his moist lips, Clark looked up. Before he could ask anything, Bruce’s mouth was on his lips, and then his tongue was in his mouth desperate and ravenous. Then Bruce groaned, and then he slipped away and he was falling to his knees between Clark’s thighs.

A shudder of arousal flooded Clark’s body. He leaned back on his elbows slightly so that he could see what Bruce was going to do, while spreading his thighs to give him room to manoeuvre. 

Bruce untied Clark’s red robe, it fell from his shoulders, and spread out. It fell against the mattress as if he was lying naked on his own cape. He wasn’t sure if Bruce had deposited the red robe in his bathroom on purpose just to have that display, but he didn’t have time to wonder any more, as he watched Bruce go down, and suck Clark’s cock into his mouth. His eyes widened with arousal, fascinated to see and experience Bruce doing this. 

In stark contrast to his reputation, his friend was eager and a little clumsy. He wasn’t an expert; obviously, he didn’t have much experience doing this, but it was perfect. Clark’s brow creased with understanding, emotion, and desire. His fingers found Bruce’s dark hair, and threaded through it. With his lips still around him, Bruce’s gaze lifted and found his, and Clark praised, “It’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

Bruce whined around him. He pulled off, and with wet lips, he asked tentatively, “Yeah?”

Clark nodded, and said gently, “Yeah Bruce.”

He reached for and he grasped his lover and pulled him towards him, and at the same time, he floated them into the centre of the mattress. Bruce landed over him, but was soon pushing himself up and staring down at him with a wry expression on his face, and in that moment, he was his best friend again. Clark mirrored him and raised his eyebrow. Bruce lunged and kissed him and suddenly, he was his lover again.

He mouthed kisses all over Clark’s naked chest and abdomen, hard and then soft. Needful, Clark arched under him and grinned joyously, “You really should’ve told me how you felt; we could’ve been doing this all the time.”

Bruce growled against his nipple, “Not all the time, we’d still have our missions.”

He laughed at the idea that Bruce thought he meant all the time, literally.

He cried out as Bruce nibbled his nipple. He grasped him and turned them over on the bed. Hmm he really wanted to hear him cry his name right now. He smiled cheekily, and then he set off in super-speed, he dove on him and kissed, mouthed, and licked almost every part of Bruce’s body. He came to a stop and watched as all the sensations hit Bruce all at once and he arched off the bed.

He gasped and he trembled but he didn’t cry out his name. Clark was disappointed; however, Bruce struggled to focus on him, and asked in awe. “What the hell was that?”

Clark shrugged, “Sorry that was me.”

Bruce groaned and ran his hand through his own hair, “Sorry, what for, fuck that was tremendous.”

He smiled proudly, “Really?”

His best friend shook his head, he murmured, “I wish I could do something like that for you.”

He pursed his lips, “You might not be able to do that, but you could do something else…”

Bruce cocked his brow, “What’s that?” he read his expression and then he licked his lips, “Oh that.”

He saw no defiance in his countenance, and so he took it as a given that there’d be no quarrels. He asked, “Have you got something we can use?”

“I never expected this week to happen as it has, if at all, so I haven’t got any lubrication.” He admitted.

It was another acknowledgement that Bruce had been waiting so long for him. In the comfort of his best friend’s company he felt liberated. His eyes glinted, and naked, he climbed off the bed, and he went to the en suite bathroom. In the cabinet, he searched for something to use. He smirked as he found the source of one of his friend’s delicious smells. He picked up the jar and returned to the bedroom. He showed Bruce his discovery, “Is this here because the Batsuit chafes or to stop it chafing?” 

From the king sized bed, Bruce gazed at him as he walked naked across the bedroom back towards him. He looked mesmerised as if he never expected to see what he was seeing in the flesh. Clark never expected it either, but he didn’t feel shy in front of his best friend. Finally, Bruce’s eyes found the jar of expensive lotion in his hand, and then shook his head and answered the question, “Neither.” 

He climbed on the bed, and he cocked a brow in question. He was trying not to focus on Bruce’s naked body that he had admired only a few nights ago, lying stretched out on the bed waiting for him, but it was taking all of his willpower. 

His friend revealed, “It’s to prevent callouses, Brucie has to have gentlemanly hands, you know.”

He stretched out his hand, “Let me see.”

Bruce offered his hand, and then Clark bowed his head and smelled it. He smiled at recognising the scent. Bruce used the back of his knuckles to caress around Clark’s nose and cheek, “You haven’t got a hand fetish now have you?” his friend joked.

“No.” Clark denied. To prove his mind and body wanted something else, he grasped Bruce and dragged him closer to him, and he leered, “Let’s hope this stuff can stop chafing.”

His best friend chuckled, “God, somehow I knew being with you was going to be like this.”

He grinned, “Who knows me better than you do, B?” 

“It’s the same for me too, Clark.” Bruce answered.

Clark licked his lips, and he leaned in close and murmured, “I didn’t know that you wanted to put your mouth on me like you did over there only last night.”

“I hoped but I wasn’t sure you would let me.” He replied gravelly.

He remembered Bruce sitting astride him in that guest bed, in that strange world. He remembered wondering what Bruce preferred in bed. He asked, “Would you like it too?” he saw Bruce’s nostrils flare, and Clark whispered, “Do you want me to do it, do you want my mouth, my tongue…?”

Bruce’s eyelids closed, he took a steadying breath, and he confessed, “This is too much, I feel like I’m going to overload, and shut down, and explode all at once.”

He murmured, “I want to see you explode.”

His lover opened his eyes, and Clark felt like he was going to drown in the depths of them. He suddenly understood how Bruce was feeling. Bruce inhaled and exhaled and then he spoke the words. “I’ve always wanted let go and have fun with my best friend, but some days I also wanted to ravish him, and sometimes I wanted to make slow passionate love to him all day long, and sometimes I wanted it all just to stop, because there was too much to hold back.”

Clark nodded, “You couldn’t do all of that all at once, so you did nothing.” 

Bruce trembled at that inability being understood finally. “And now I have the chance to do all those things, and still I do nothing.”

He leaned in and he kissed his cheek softly, and then whispered into his ear, “You don’t have to do anything, it’s my turn.”

He felt the shudder of Bruce’s body under him. He hesitated as he realised he wanted to do everything that Bruce had said, and he found it just as hard figuring out which to do first. Then his best friend grumbled, “I thought you were going to do something.”

Clark smiled to himself, the way to go was clear. He grasped his lover and he dragged him to him again, and he kissed him ardently, and then he crawled backwards, he murmured huskily, “It’s my turn.”

Bruce groaned guessing his intent and spread his thighs with willingness. Clark grasped those muscled thighs, and he bowed his head between them. He pressed his tongue to his centre and licked around it. His lover groaned softly, “Yes.” but he didn’t cry out. Clark smiled wolfishly against the tightness; he was definitely going to make him cry out his name, even if it took most of the night to do it.

~B~

It was something he’d never want anyone else to know but he kind of loved Clark Kent’s tongue probing his ass. He’d felt a tinge of fleeting embarrassment before it was overpowered by pride and arousal as he heard Clark’s sounds of appreciation. His hand cupped the back of Clark’s head, and he strained his neck to watch him at work. 

He had been awestruck by Clark’s reaction and willingness for Bruce to do the same to him last night, though of course Bruce’s had only been a taster, god what Clark was doing down there was more than a taste. He was relaxed and needy now all by Clark’s effort, his tongue strong and untiring. He panted softly as his tongue met his flesh again and again. He kept his legs spread for him, and he gently teased his own cock as it lay hard against his belly. 

God, he could die happy right now.

His lover pulled away, and Bruce had the greatest desire to hold him there, but he knew he couldn’t. Clark met his gaze with moist pink lips. His eyes sparkled at him with mischief, even in the brightness created by the lights in the bedroom. It was only then that Bruce realised they were doing this in illumination. This was no shadowy tryst; there was no hiding what they were sharing with each other. He found he didn’t want to hide from Clark anymore; he wanted to share everything with him. Bruce grinned sharply, and murmured, “I think it’s my turn again.”

He saw surprise flicker across Clark’s face. Then his face settled into soft acceptance. He leaned forward, and he pressed his lips to Bruce’s and then he rolled away, so he was lying at his side. He locked gazes with him, and then spread his legs for him just as Bruce had for him. It was like a dream, too much, too good to be true, but it was true. He manoeuvred, and eagerly he pressed a long slow kiss to his lover’s centre. The sound of Clark’s moan in response was heavenly. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this, he rarely let his fantasies get to the nitty gritty of what he would do if Clark let him. But he’d admired his ass many times, in suit pants, in jeans and the odd time in uniform if his cape ever lifted enough to get a look. Desiring his tight ass seemed silly compared to strength of his love and devotion, but there in the changing room, framed by a copy of his own uniform, seeing it bare and so pert and desirable, it had been too much to deny.

And now, Clark was writhing against his tongue, eager and relaxing against its probing. Bruce growled against his damp skin, “You want it?”

His best friend moaned, and he laughed at the same time, “Oh yes. Oh damn Bruce your tongue yes, hmm.”

The unfamiliar moan of tormented desire and that familiar laugh together brought him to the reason for this, the reason they were here on his bed. He lifted his head and he stared at the flushed pleasure soaked man on his bed. 

Clark’s gaze darted to his, and he asked, “Why did you stop?” 

His focus dropped to Bruce’s erection, it was hard and needy. He saw Clark’s eyelids blink slowly and then wordlessly his hand reached for the jar of lotion that had been discarded on the massive bed. Excitement and apprehension fought for control inside Bruce. He almost stuttered the words, “Clark… Clark what are you doing with that?”

 

To be continued


	16. Chapter 16

TITLE: Twain 16  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,630  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark and Bruce consummate their relationship.

~B~

Without saying anything, his friend got some lotion on his hand and then he reached out, and he smeared the lotion down Bruce’s erection. Bruce shuddered in response, his cock had been in Clark’s mouth already, but still his touch sent a shockwave of surprise through his body. As he’d told his friend previously, he’d waited so long he didn’t know how he was going to last for long but Clark didn’t seem to consider that as he stroked it until it was leaky and still Clark pumped it. 

Finally, Bruce couldn’t take anymore, and he took control and he lined up to his friend’s ass. He saw Clark’s eyes flare amber, they had talked about contained passion before in the other universe, and again he saw evidence of it. Bruce reflexively grasped his wrists and he pinned them to the bed, and he began the long press in with his slicked hard length. The tightness of it was incredible; even as it yielded to his entry, it was still so close and tight. It made him fear for his stamina again. Clark’s body tensed under his, until he lifted his legs and he cradled Bruce’s hips, and he tilted up, and then Bruce was shuddering as his cock sank into Clark’s very tight ass. Bruce uttered breathlessly, “Oh Clark.”

Clark’s jaw was a hard line, as he gasped, “Louder.”

Bruce frowned, thrown into confusion by the command. Clark’s body bucked up against his, and in a husky murmur he commanded, “Fuck me like you’ve always wanted to.”

He shook his head, and denied, “I could never… I never wanted to just fuck you.”

Overcome with need and pleasure, Clark whined softly, “Please just…”

Bruce growled in response to the plea. It was a real life version of his fantasies that he’d had here in this bed, his own bedroom. He tightened his grip on Clark’s wrists, and he began thrusting into him. His best friend moaned and took it. He gazed up at him, locked gazes with him, and he felt like he was under that spotlight again. He wanted to hide from its glare. 

He remembered Clark’s belief that with his experience that he’d be in for a sexual treat, or maybe he’d just been teasing him but he did want to prove himself and make what he was sharing with the man that he loved good and special. He wouldn’t have chosen to take him so vigorously but if that’s what Clark wanted, then that’s what he would give him.

He was sweating and throbbing and he habitually kept his lips tightly shut, after so long of having to keep himself quiet in the throes of passion, it was instinctive. As he felt his body under his, felt their physical connection he was filled with primitive yearning to satisfy him. As he looked up again, Clark’s gorgeous eyes locked with his and he panted heavily. He looked so beautiful gazing up at him from underneath him. Finally, Clark begged, “Please.”

Bruce’s brow creased, he tightened his grip on his wrists, and he withdrew and then thrust back into him, harder trying to satisfy his lover. Abruptly, Clark pulled one of his hands from under his, and he grasped the back of Bruce’s head, and he kissed him, opened his mouth with his lips, and he pleaded, “Please, Bruce please.”

His body was almost on overload, he didn’t have much left to give, he gasped, “Clark, oh god.”

He found a reserve and he thrust his pulsating cock harder and deeper, and then Clark whispered, “No.” as his muscled body tremored under his, he arched his head back and bared his throat, and his come splashed between them. 

It was the most glorious sight Bruce had ever seen. His own body trembled, and he jerked forward over and over again. He came with a hoarse shout, “Clark oh my god Clark!”

Chest still heaving, Clark’s gaze darted back to him. He looked startled before his features softened; he guided him to him and he kissed Bruce’s face tenderly, murmuring, “Yes, that’s right baby yes.”

Still trying to suck in enough air, but not paying it too much mind, his lips found Clark’s, and their breath mingled before their lips slid away; he bowed his forehead to Clark’s broad shoulder. Then the man he loved cradled him in his arms, and stroked his back comfortingly, sated and contented.

~S~

It was the early hours of the morning as Superman flew towards the rising sun. The sight was spectacular but not more so than seeing his best friend come for him, crying out his name last night. He was returning from a call out. His destination was Wayne Manor. He returned to the bedroom, where he had been sleeping by his lover’s side when his subconscious had picked up the cries of distress from miles away. Bruce had been so deeply asleep, he hadn’t woken him as he’d left, wanting him to enjoy a peaceful slumber. Knowing of Bruce’s usual schedule, he expected to get back, and slip back into bed, so that Bruce woke up with him there beside him. It seemed only right after spending their first exciting night of enjoying each other’s bodies.

He entered through the French windows leading in from the balcony. He stopped short, as he saw the big bed was empty. Clark winced with disappointment. He tilted his head, and listened for the sounds of Bruce. He found him in the kitchen; he heard the sound of Alfred pouring tea from a teapot into a cup. He heard Bruce speak the tender words, “…I love him Alfred. I always have.” 

All at the same time, Clark’s heart tripped, his brow creased with emotion and he smiled with the happiness that swelled up inside him. Yesterday, Clark had silently suggested that they share their news about the change in their relationship with Bruce’s guardian. Bruce had reacted with an apprehensive look, and Clark had let it go. However now he was down there baring his soul to Alfred. Clark glanced at the unmade bed that they had shared and he realised it wasn’t until they had shared that physical bond that Bruce really let himself believe all his secret hopes had come true. 

He pursed his lips, and he undressed. It was amazing knowing he had a special place in Batman’s armour covered tender heart. He was so grateful that he found him out, and that he hadn’t unwittingly broken that soft heart. He laid his uniform on the chaise longue. Then he took a moment and had another listen. He heard Alfred ask with a slightly embarrassed tone, “And he is still asleep up there now?”

Clark bowed his head bashfully even though Alfred couldn’t see him. 

Bruce sighed under his breath in disappointment and then replied, “No, he must be out on a save.” He grinned as his friend’s words showed how well Bruce knew him, no worrying about his whereabouts just a stoic assumption. Bruce added, “I better get back up there before he gets back and finds me gone.”

He chuckled at their mirrored concerns. Instead of getting dressed and meeting him downstairs, Clark slipped back in between the sheets, and waited for his lover’s return.

Minutes later the doorknob turned, and Clark closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He sensed Bruce come closer to the bed, and then he felt him slip under the covers with him. He kept his breaths shallow. Then Bruce murmured, “Are you asleep?”

He wanted to smile at the role reversal from their first night in the guestroom, but he didn’t. Then Bruce’s fingers traced Clark’s naked chest, tweaking the hardening nub of his nipple. Hmm this was really nice. He remembered his own touches to Bruce’s torso, he had felt so daring touching his friend’s body before they had talked out their feelings, but after Bruce’s mute jealousy that night, Clark had believed that it was what Bruce had wanted. It turned out that he had been right. 

Now, he expected Bruce to follow the path he had chosen. His fingers did trace down his torso, slowly and worshipfully but then unexpectedly they went lower, daringly following his light trail of hair and then he rubbed firmly over his crotch. His cock reacted instinctively. Slowly, Clark opened his eyes, and he saw Bruce’s focus was on his palm on Clark’s hardening cock. He saw his fingers curl into a fist around it, and then he watched the concentration on his lover’s face as he watched Clark’s erection grow within his slow moving but grasping fist. He watched him fascinated in return. When it was standing up erect in his fist; Bruce began to lean over, his mouth, his lips and tongue and hot breath coming closer to Clark’s cock. 

It flexed though he managed to make no other movement, however, Bruce turned his head, and he flashed a leering smile at him. It was then that Clark’s breath caught, realising Bruce had known he was watching him all along. His lover said. “I knew you weren’t asleep.” 

He smiled at his best friend with fondness and desire, and he murmured, “What are you doing with that?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, and whispered playfully, “I need it hard, so you can make me cry out your name again.”

His smile widened into a grin, “You knew about that huh?”

“Not at the time, my brain wasn’t working at the time, but I figured it out afterwards.” He admitted.

“It worked.” Clark said smugly.

“That’s why you chose to have it that way?” he wondered.

“I figured it was the best way to get it.”

Bruce pursed his lips coquettishly, “Really, we’ll have to see about that.” he glanced at Clark’s erection, “I think maybe this will get a louder reaction.”

Clark’s eyes widened at Bruce’s sexy teasing tone, and then he met his gaze intensely. With excitement, he whispered, “You think you’re going to be a screamer?”

Adorably, his lover sniggered softly, “I have no idea, but I won’t mind if you try to make me.”

The playfulness, and the easy way that he was asking for him to take him made Clark pull him up snug against him and kiss him gently, before he rolled them over on the bed. Then he murmured against his lips, “How about we try making that slow passionate love we mentioned before.”

Bruce gazed up at him openly with no fear, only anticipation and trust shining from his eyes. Clark held his gaze as he reached out to retrieve the lotion they had used as lubrication last night. His lover’s chest rose and fell but he continued to hold that trusting gaze. Clark prayed, “God.” as he was bathed in that gaze.

Clark opened the jar, got some on his fingers. Bruce broke his gaze and glanced down his own body to follow Clark’s hand, but Clark braced himself over him, and he kissed his cheek, which made Bruce turn to look at him again, Clark smiled and took his mouth. Bruce hummed softly in his mouth. Then Clark sneaked his fingers between his lover’s muscled thighs, and pressed them to his centre for the first time. 

Bruce groaned into his mouth at his touch.

When he pressed his fingers inside, Bruce’s groans turned into a moan, and his tongue plunged into his Clark’s mouth in response. Clark moaned in return, feeling his tongue in his mouth, and his tight yielding flesh around his fingers. He massaged his perineum with his thumb as his fingers delved. Then instinctively, his tongue and his fingers took on the same rhythm as each other. 

He did that until Bruce was grasping at Clark’s hips, without saying the words, telling him that he needed more than his fingers inside him. Clark’s erection was straining to fulfil that need. He pulled back and he reached for the jar, and he hurriedly slicked his cock. Then he glanced back at Bruce. He stopped and he took in the sight of the gloriously flushed handsome man staring at him in return. He was almost a stranger, he looked young, and soft, he was looking at him as if he was everything he had ever wanted or needed in the world. 

He felt the same emotions soak through his own body. He reached out to him but before he could touch him tenderly, Bruce splayed his legs open for him. He heard himself growl, and he grasped his lover’s thighs and, spread them even wider, and his lover let out a little noise. 

He wanted him, it still surprised him, but he wanted Bruce more than he’d wanted anyone ever. He lined up, and then he took his best friend, carefully to the hilt. Bruce strained and shuddered under him and he met his gaze, and uttered hoarsely, “Clark.”

He shook his head.

Bruce panted, “Not loud enough?”

He smiled wolfishly, “Not quite.”

His lover turned his head on the pillow and mewed, “Shit.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Without looking his way, breathily, Bruce said, “Yes. God yes, don’t stop.”

He watched him mesmerised, and then he withdrew oh so slowly, and then thrust back in deep. Bruce cried out, but not his name and his eyes darted back to Clark’s. He saw him look down his own body to where they were joined. Then it was Bruce growling softly, and then his hands grasped Clark’s ass. He urged quietly, “Come on baby.”

Mirroring Bruce’s own actions last night, Clark grasped his wrists, pinning them to the mattress. Bruce’s eyes widened, and then he breathed, “Yes.”

Clark’s nostrils flared, and he started to move, he panted, “This is what you need, what you’ve always needed from me.”

He didn’t stop moving and thrusting until Bruce was straining under him and crying out his lover’s name, “Clark, please Clark yes!”

~*~

As they settled down, and Bruce caught his breath, Clark smiled softly at him, with all of his devotion. “I love you.”

Bruce opened his mouth to speak but Clark pressed his finger over Bruce’s lips hushing him. Bruce blinked slowly, and then he asked, “You know don’t you?”

He nodded, “When I got back, I used my hearing to search for you. I heard what you said to Alfred.”

His lover nodded, and said humorously, “You and that damned hearing.” Then he shrugged, “It’s nothing that I haven’t already told you.”

Clark’s smile brightened, “I know, but it was still nice to hear it.”

“Alfred was a little embarrassed.” He revealed, “…but I think he might’ve already known.”

He imagined stoic Alfred’s face at his ward’s declaration. He said, “Shall I go and confess my feelings for you to him, and see if he heard you downstairs.”

He saw the look of alarm on Bruce’s face, and Clark chuckled, and admitted, “I don’t think I could face doing it anyway.”

Bruce leaned in and murmured, “Don’t scare me like that. Anyway, sound doesn’t carry that far in these old houses.” He caressed Clark’s cheek, “About the other thing, the only person who needs to know how you feel is me.”

Clark met his gaze with lowered lashes and he declared softly, “I’m so grateful that I have you, Bruce.”

His lover’s brow creased and he brought their lips together firmly, and Clark could feel the strength of Bruce’s love for him in that kiss. He’d already heard what he wanted to hear today, he didn’t need to hear the words again.

 

To be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone :)


	17. Chapter 17

TITLE: Twain 17  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,518  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: The day is coming when Clark Kent will be laid to rest. The plan for Clark’s new life is set in motion.

~S~

Many times during their friendship, they had shared comfortable silence, especially during missions or stakeouts when Batman had insisted on their concentration, but it was the first time, they had shared it lying naked together in bed. It was a combination of afterglow, and peaceful lassitude. His life had changed in the last week or so. He remembered Bruce’s concern that he was clutching to the first life line that had come along. Maybe he was, or maybe having his life shaken up, had let him see what he’d always had unknowingly. 

He remembered Bruce telling him that love could come from where it’s least expected. He turned his head on the pillow and smiled at his best friend. Bruce had his eyes closed but he had a contented smile on his face. Clark was proud that he’d put it there. He realised he wanted to see that smile forever.

He uttered, “How would we go about creating my new identity?”

He saw Bruce’s breath get caught in his chest, and he breathed shakily. He opened his eyes, turned his head, and met his gaze. His brow creased with emotion, and Clark reached out and caressed his jaw. He asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You want to go through with my plan. You’ve decided already?” he asked.

Clark grinned, “You seem surprised.”

Bruce shook his head, “I kind of am.”

“It’s a great idea Bruce and best of all I don’t have to start from scratch, I have somewhere to live, my friends are here, and I can figure out what path to choose as a career at my leisure just as you told me.”

Bruce nodded along stoically, “Yes, and once you’ve settled into your new identity, you can do anything you want, go anywhere, explore…”

He frowned, “You make it sound like…”

His friend lowered his lashes, and stared down at the bedsheets. He muttered, “You’re my friend Clark, I’ll still help you anyway I can, you don’t have to…”

He had a sinking feeling, “I don’t have to…?” 

He began, “These last few days you’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted, but you don’t have to feel like you have to stay with me.”

He was beginning to feel incredulous. Clark sat up in bed, and he shook his head, he suddenly felt poorly, he demanded, “You think I slept with you, told you that I love you because I’m grateful for your help?”

He mumbled, but his head was still bowed. “No, of course not. I just want you to know you’re free to make your own choices.” 

He reached out and raised Bruce’s chin until he looked him in the eye. He tensed his jaw and spoke seriously, “I haven’t got a choice, not anymore, you made sure of it…” Bruce’s eyes widened, and Clark continued, “You told me I’d find the love that I’d been waiting for, what I knew I was missing and I did, I found you Bruce hiding in plain sight. I want what you said; I want to stay here with you and be together.” he swallowed hard, “Unless you don’t want me now you've had me.”

Bruce looked pained as he told, “I never want you to go Clark.”

Clark took a shaky breath, “So why say those things.”

“Because I love you.”

He bowed his head to Bruce’s, “Don’t frighten me like that again.”

His lover’s lips found his and he kissed him a little desperately, “I promise I won’t.”

Clark took control over the kiss, he deepened it and pushed Bruce down into the bedclothes, he broke the kiss lingeringly, and he told him his voice rough with passion and meaning, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Then he took his mouth, and kissed away any ideas of Bruce letting him go for his own good.

~B~

He spent the following week preparing, and setting up Clark’s new identity. It reminded him of those weeks that he had spent after returning home from Asia. He’d spent years preparing for his mission, but with hardly any thought about public perception. He’d never had the urge to paint the town; he’d have been perfectly fine being holed up in Wayne Manor most of the time. It was only his dear guardian pointing out that a newly returned Bruce Wayne being known as a recluse would be suspicious when a masked crusader was suddenly stalking the streets of Gotham. He’d had to fabricate an outgoing personality and a false identity from his real one. He knew Clark had had to do the same, but the inverse of his own. Clark had created a diffident personality, while using his real identity, and he’d done a marvellous job too. 

Now Bruce was helping him create something new, hacking into, and falsifying DMV records to get a driving licence for Joseph Wayne, a new passport, and a social security number. Clark had argued, as Bruce had deposited some money into a new bank account, but as he had explained, the bank would transfer Clark Kent’s account funds to his next of kin on receipt of a death certificate. His mom would get his money, and if Clark wanted to retrieve his money from his mom afterwards that was their business.

Following his permission from Clark, he had set Lucius the task of digging into Wayne Enterprises ancient records to find out where the company stood on old Uncle Philip’s shares or lack of, and the standing of a child’s claim. It turned out, that Bruce’s dad Thomas had bought out his brother’s shares. Most likely because Philip had wanted cash for his adventure that he never returned from. The only thing left was a one percent share, which Lucius had transferred into the name of Joseph Wayne. He wasn’t going to tell his partner about that indemnity, he knew Clark wouldn’t approve but he wanted to give the man who had agreed to share his life with him an insurance policy. On top of that, he had made a personal request to Lucius that had excited the older man and gave him a reason to get back into the R&D lab that he loved, and which was going to be a special surprise for Clark. 

Yesterday, he found himself having fun online shopping for his best friend, it was usually a chore to go waste his time at the gentleman’s tailors for his own clothing, but without that option, they didn’t want to cause suspicion, he enjoyed showing Clark the photos of his choices for him. 

Today the parcels had arrived promptly. It had been a loaded question when they’d gotten to the top of the stairs with the parcels, which room should they put them in. It was a difficult question, it asked about the permanence of their relationship, although Clark had slept in his bed since that first night.

Clark had found a way to be pragmatic and reassuring. Although the chance of it was very slim, he had said Bruce’s cousin needed his own bedroom, his own wardrobe and his own space. Neither of them could think of a situation where the public would find out what the bedroom arrangements that the occupants of Wayne Manor had, however, there was logic behind the idea. They carried the parcels to the Cobalt room. 

Then Bruce had spent the most satisfying afternoon, sitting in an easy chair, and insisting and watching avidly as his best friend and lover tried on the clothes that he had picked. Not only putting them on, but also watching them come off again, not just once each but again in different combinations, you know just to make sure everything went together; it had nothing to do with admiring miles of muscled flesh. After years of hiding his attraction, now he wallowed in the freedom that came with confession.

It was gratifying watching his gorgeous friend wearing clothes that matched his attractiveness. It was so gratifying that he’d sat with a sweet ache at his groin for most of the time. As Clark tried on the last item, Bruce murmured, “No more hiding how hot you are now.”

Clark came to a halt with his fingers on his new silk shirt buttons, and he stared at him, and in a tone that he knew was teasing, Clark queried, “You don’t think Clark Kent was hot?”

Bruce stared at him in return. That definitely wasn’t what he was saying, although they rarely spent time together while Clark was wearing his work clothes, they had never lessened his desire for his friend. Suddenly, he realised he wasn’t going to ever see his lover like that again. His erection thickened, as an urge took over his thoughts. He uttered gutturally, “I want him just once.”

He saw Clark’s eyes flare with arousal. He could see that his friend who had always understood him, understood him plainly now. Clark glanced towards the walk-in wardrobe. He licked his lips, and then he disappeared in a blink of Bruce’s eyes. Then only a moment later, he walked out of the wardrobe, as the man he had been. He wore a beige suit, white shirt, and beige stripped tie; he wore his black rimmed glasses, and had neatly parted hair. 

He stopped short, looked at him with apprehension, and licked his lips nervously, blinked a couple of times and then asked with a lighter pitched tone, “Why are you looking at me like that Mr Wayne?”

Bruce felt arousal shiver through him; it was the first time Clark had ever played it that way towards him. He found he liked it he liked it a lot. His cock bulged at his crotch and there was no denying how he was feeling. Clark’s eyes widened behind his lenses seeing it, he licked his lips nervously, and uttered, “Gosh.”

Bruce replied candidly, “Since I had you, I can’t control myself anymore. Alone like this there’s no hiding it now.”

He saw Clark’s chest heave, and then still in character, he adjusted his glasses, and then he moved towards him, “Mr Wayne, as blind as I am, even I would’ve noticed that.” 

He wanted to smile. He also wanted him to tease him to distraction, and at the same time, he wanted him to stop teasing. Then suddenly Clark tripped over nothing, and he landed on him in a heap. Clark lifted his head and met him face to face, “S…sorry Mr Wayne.”

Bruce laughed in delight, he cupped his face, and he kissed his nervously moist lips. Clark mewed into his mouth and Bruce wondered if he was still in character or his lover really was as turned on as him. Bruce’s hands left his face, they found his body, and caught his hips, and he brought his own hips up. Their lengths met through the fabric of their pants, he felt Clark’s hardness, but suddenly, Clark pulled away, exclaiming, “Oh no, what are you doing?”

He stood up, and he looked around worriedly. 

They’d gone too far to be denied. He stood up, and grasped his head and took his mouth intensely and brought their hard crotches together again. Clark’s eyes became serious with desire, and he watched as Bruce thrust up rubbing against him. He watched too until Clark’s suit pants were tented. Then his nimble fingers were at the fly of his pants, he gasped softly as Bruce drew him out. His partner smiled, and closed the gap between them. His lips brushed his, and teasingly his tongue met his, and Bruce moaned and he deepened the kiss and parried his tongue with his own. He groaned into his mouth, “Damn I want you, Clark Kent.”

Clark blinked slowly, and he vowed, “You have me.”

His heart beat madly, and he nodded, “Yeah I think I do.”

His friend asked huskily, “Now how do you want me?”

His nostrils flared at the question, knowing from the experiences they’d already shared that the choice was unlimited. With anyone else but his best friend, he’d feel embarrassed but with Clark it didn’t matter, it was thrilling to be so candid. “I want this; I want you to fuck me.”

Clark swallowed hard, and then he reached down and he took a gentle hold of Bruce’s ass. He squeezed his cheeks; he nodded to himself, and murmured, “Yes.” the he spun Bruce around, so they were chest to back. Bruce gasped at the move, and then he gasped even louder as Clark’s hands reached for his belt and unbelted him from behind. His cock sprang out so eager. Then his pants fell around his ankles, and Clark’s hands were pulling up the hem of Bruce’s polo shirt, pulling it up over his head, before it was gone. 

He felt Clark’s hard cock pressed to the valley of his ass cheeks, he shivered, and he arched back instinctively. He heard Clark whisper, “Yes.” in between kisses against his ear.

He felt slickness, and realised at some point Clark had gone and got the bottle of lube that Bruce had purchased the following morning after their first night sharing his bed. 

Clark’s cock entered him; it opened him up as he arched back for it. He laughed softly, realising Clark had always found a way of opening him up, first his trust, then his heart and now his body. At his laugh, Clark’s lips pressed to his bare shoulder, held his hips and then he took him all the way. Bruce moaned desperately, “Yes.”

He took hold of his erection and he fisted it, as he rocked back onto his lover’s cock. Clark stroked into him, and caressed his back with his strong hands. He began panting in pleasure, and crying softly, “Clark, Clark.”

Clark pulled him back against his chest, his hand pressed over Bruce’s heart; his lover kissed his neck, and then murmured in his ear, “Yes baby. Yes.” 

It seemed the man that he loved didn’t need the loud declaration of his desire anymore, just his quiet cry was enough now.

Then Clark grasped Bruce’s hips again, and held him to him, deep inside, he lifted him up, carried him and then he turned them so Clark sat down on the couch, with Bruce straddling his lap backwards. His friend moaned as the movement pushed him inside him deeper and he let out a little whine himself. When they were settled, Clark began guiding his hips and moving him up and down on his length. Bruce turned his upper body and braced his hand against the back of the seat, and moved with his lover, he gazed down into his friend’s flushed face. It was a new position as everything was new to them, and they had a future full of new things to look forward to together. 

 

To be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish all my readers a happy New Year and contented year to come. I appreciate your support, and I'm glad I've been able to entertain you and bring some enjoyment into your lives, just as writing has made my life better.


	18. Chapter 18

TITLE: Twain 18/18  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 3,423  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark says goodbye to his old life for good.

~S~

He wasn’t too sure how all this was going to work. He’d lived the last several years playing up to and exaggerating the different sides to his own personality. He’d become so good at it, that it hadn’t been chore, it became instinctive to act different ways behind different doors. However, the doors of the Daily Planet weren’t going to open again, he could put away any diffidence, and if he did feel it in the future, he didn’t have to show it. 

He looked in the mirror, and brown eyes gazed back at him, on account of the contact lenses, that Bruce had got made for him courtesy of Lucius Fox. They contained a variation on UV transition lenses technology, but instead of changing in different lights, the lenses became transparent with a series of encoded blinks, so he didn’t have to take them out when he had to rush off as Superman. He ran hair product covered fingers through his hair, and ruffled it into soft tousles. He dressed in the black suit and charcoal turtleneck cotton sweater, which was now a part of Joseph Wayne’s wardrobe. He’d had misgivings about Bruce buying him a wardrobe of clothes, but he had to concede Bruce knew more about fashion, and how to put together an image than Clark did. As Bruce had promised, Joe’s wardrobe wasn’t a copy of his own. Joe had his own style, not the billionaire’s wardrobe, and not something Clark would choose, it was somewhere in the middle, only expensive enough that he wouldn’t stand out.

He was going to pay him back, he didn’t know how because he knew Bruce would never accept the money, so he was determined to make his life better and pay him back that way.

He still wasn’t sure that nobody would recognise him. Yet he knew he’d stood in front of the same people as Superman and Clark Kent at different times and nobody recognised him. He’d put a lot of work into being Clark Kent the reporter. He opened the drawer on his dressing table, he reached inside, and his fingertips stroked the black framed glasses reverently. Then he closed the drawer. Now he had to figure out how to be Joseph Wayne, Bruce’s cousin.

He smirked at himself. That was one thing he was going to have to work on. They didn’t want anyone picking up on the fact that they were anything more than cousins. It should be easy; they’d managed it for years, except they hadn’t declared their feelings for each other. If what had happened between them in the last two weeks had happened earlier maybe it would’ve been hard to hide it. At least now, as cousins a small amount of affection should be expected.

He left the dressing room. He hadn’t figured out what he was going do with his time, should he continue to write under a pen name or try to figure something else out. He knew that he had all the time in the world, which he could stay at Bruce’s leisure. He was never going to live off his best… he grinned to himself, he meant his partner. Ha! He chuckled to himself. He wasn’t going to live off his partner, but Bruce’s hospitality meant he didn’t have to rush into anything.

He went downstairs. Once today was done, when his old life was ended with finality, then his new one could start with an almost clean state.

~*~

The black car drove its route. Alfred was at the wheel and he and Bruce were in the back. He was reminded of the story of the alternate Wayne’s finding the Kent’s dying in the road. He thought about them scooping him up and putting him in the back of the car, maybe it was the alternate of this car, and taking him home and making him a Wayne. He shook his head at the thought that occurred to him. His observant partner noticed and asked, “What is it?”

He adjusted his brown tinted Ray-bans and half smiled, “I was thinking of those other Wayne’s driving me home to the Manor. Now we’re driving to Smallville to make me a Wayne.”

Bruce reached out and took his hand comfortingly. He twined their fingers together and held on.

They timed it right, and their car joined the funeral cortege as it left on its way to Smallville cemetery. He wished he could be in the lead car with his mom and Lois to give them support. The cars filed into the cemetery parking lot. He saw two young dark haired figures already there waiting. The young well-built men noticed their car, and glanced at each other. He nudged Bruce, and motioned out the window. Bruce’s eyes widened, and he said wryly, “The wanderer has returned.”

He smiled, “I didn’t realise he’d been keeping in contact with Conner.”

“Well us Bats are drawn to Supers it seems.” 

He murmured, “So it seems.”

Bruce leaned in and kissed his cheek, and cautioned, “People are in mourning here.”

He nodded seriously, understanding the situation better than anyone did. Then everyone got out, even Alfred. 

Everyone headed to the hearse and watched on as the mortician opened the back. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then four men stepped forward. It seemed he hadn’t been given the heads up about his own funeral plan. He swallowed hard, as Perry, Jimmy, Dick and Conner gathered around to lift the casket. Then through the crowd, another man stepped out. His eyes widened as Lex Luthor joined them. He turned to look at his partner in confusion but all Bruce did was tilt his head wryly, and then he too stepped forward and joined them. Then his eyes found his mom’s across the space. She smiled demurely, letting him know she recognised him, as if the woman who raised him wouldn’t.

There was so much that he wanted to talk to his mom about, Lex’s presence here amongst other things. He also wanted to tell her about the alternate Clark Wayne that he had met, about his life and his loss. He wanted to tell her about him and Bruce, and explain his new identity to her. However, the time wasn’t right.

Then the six men hefted the bodiless casket onto their shoulders. Then they proceeded to the funeral march to the open grave site next to Jonathan Kent’s grave. He felt himself tear up but the tinted sunglasses shielded his eyes from the people around him. If anyone would recognise him without his glasses and his hair this way, his neighbours from Smallville would, his need for a disguise only was necessary after he had grown, and decided to stand up and try to make this world a better place by helping out where he could.

With a clear blue sky above, they gathered around. Bruce returned to his and Alfred’s side with Dick, as Conner instinctively took up a place on his other side, they watched the steel casket as it was lowered into the ground. 

Reverend Charles gave the eulogy. He listened as people sniffled around him. He felt Bruce solemn at his side. He wondered what he was feeling, was he imagining if this was real, and he had lost him. His eyes found his mom, who had a handkerchief raised in front of her face to project the sadness she would’ve felt had his death been true. A black veiled hat wearing Lois was beside her, her arm around her as an image of a shoulder to cry on, but also the genuine support of keeping up appearances. 

He glanced away and his eyes found Lex, Clark’s ex-friend, Superman’s enemy. The handsome bald man looked contemplative as he gazed down at the coffin. Maybe he was full of regrets of how their lives had turned out. Then Lex raised his pale eyes from the grave, and he looked up and looked directly at him. He inhaled. Then Lex’s lips twitched and he tipped his head to him. Clark exhaled shakily at the acknowledgement. There was nothing to do but shake his head and glance away.

His gaze found Perry as he said some words. His cranky boss, and supportive mentor said, “For once, I don’t know what to say. Kent would’ve been shocked by that, I guess. He was a good and decent man. The kid was good at his job; I guess I never told him that enough. He was quiet and unassuming and the first time he sticks his neck out, he goes and gets himself killed…” his eyes found Martha Kent, and he grimaced, “I’m doggone sorry Martha.” He glanced around, and then looked at the hole in the ground, “Aw I’m sorry Clark.”

His jaw tightened as he held back his reaction to Perry’s frustrated feelings on display.

Then Jimmy Olsen stepped forward, he dithered at the grave side, and then he stopped and seemed transfixed by the gaping hole in the solid ground. He swallowed hard and then uttered, “You were such a great guy, I’m gonna miss you.” For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but instead tears fell from his eyes, and he wiped them away hastily. He uttered, “Bye CK.” then he stepped back

Damn, he hated seeing the people he cared about; people he knew cared about him grieving for him, it wasn’t fair. He felt a hand pat his back comfortingly. He glanced to his right and gave Conner a tight smile of thanks.

Lex didn’t say anything; he just tossed a rose into the dark hole.

Finally, Lois stepped up, and though her features were obscured by the veil, her voice was suitably shaky. She said, “I just want to say, you were always a good friend to me Clark Kent, and I’m going to miss you every day, but I know that you’re in a better place.” She raised her face and directed it towards him, and he knew she was smirking at the cleverness of her innuendo. “You don’t have to worry anymore; you can laze about and have everything you want. I have no doubt he has found a special place for you because he loves you.”

He wanted to tell her off for going too far but he was trapped by circumstance. Finally, she uttered, “Bye Smallville, I bet we’ll meet again in the heavens someday.”

Then everyone took a turn throwing a handful of dirt on the coffin, and then trailed off to the cars, Dick and Alfred heading to the parking lot with Martha and Lois. He lingered and he walked over and touched his dad’s gravestone reverently. He murmured, “Today I become a Wayne in the eyes of the world, but I’ll always be your son, Dad. I’ll always be Clark Kent.”

“A Wayne?” Conner wondered from behind him.

He turned and he smiled tightly. “Yeah, it’s Bruce’s idea. My new alter ego is going to be his long lost cousin.”

The young man who looked so much like him, winced, “I guess the day Conner Kent loses his cousin, Bruce Wayne gains one huh.”

“Yeah.” He reached out, and grasped his shoulder, “But you’re more than my cousin Conner, that’ll never change.” He smiled encouragingly.

The younger man raised an eyebrow, and asked, “You’re still going to be Superman right?”

Clark joked, “Yeah I’m keeping the codename, you can’t have it.”

Conner chuckled, and then grinned, “As long as you’re around, I’m happy to be Superboy.”

He squeezed his shoulder, “Good boy.”

As he glanced back at the Kent patriarch’s headstone, his partner walked up, and he told him and Conner, “Promise me, if it ever happens for real, I want you to dig up that empty coffin, and put my body in it. There doesn’t have to be another formal ceremony, but this is where I want to be laid to rest.”

Both of them spoke at the same time, “I promise.”

He nodded thankfully. Then they headed for the parking lot. 

Half the people paying their respects left afterwards, but the rest followed the lead car back to the Kent farm for an informal wake. Conner and Dick hitched a ride in the lead car, because it had more room and as a Kent, Conner belonged there. On the way, Clark revealed to Bruce, “Lex knew it was me.”

His partner replied, “It wouldn’t have escaped Lex Luthor’s notice that Superman has been active since your death. It doesn’t change anything, he’s kept your secret for all these years, and he’ll continue to do so.”

He observed his not so usually philosophical partner. He realised that his newfound relaxation was down to him. He felt full of pride.

Alfred parked up in the dirt and gravelled yard and again, they got out the cars. His mom took time to thank everyone for coming one at a time. The funeral was fake, but the respect these people were bestowing on her son’s memory was real. He couldn’t see him so it looked as if Lex had left and not come to the farm. 

In the Kent farmyard, Dick approached, met Bruce’s gaze, and said, “Hey.”

Subdued Bruce nodded, and told him, “It’s good to see you.”

Dick snorted softly and smiled, and then his gaze left Bruce and found him. “I’d have come to see you sooner, but I didn’t want to add to your troubles. Are you doing alright?”

He smiled in return, “Better than I expected.” He motioned with his head sideways, “Bruce has been doing a good job helping me focus on the positives.”

Dick’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. Then the hostess of the solemn affair got to them, his mom shook his hand, as Bruce introduced, “Mrs Kent, this is my cousin Joseph Wayne, he’s going to be staying with me indefinitely.”

He saw the awe on Dick’s face at the revelation of his new identity.

Martha Kent smiled, “It’s nice to meet you Joseph, that’s such a nice name.”

Heartfelt, he smiled and said, “Thank you, my mom chose it.”

Clark Kent’s mom asked wryly, “Did you know my son, Mr Wayne?”

He reached up, and took his sunglasses off. He shook his head, “No, ma’am, I’ve only just arrived here.”

“They say he’s been nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, did you know that?”

“Yes, ma’am I heard that.” he smiled at the woman who meant the world to him, the woman who had always been a source of comfort and good advice, trying to have a conversation with him out in public. He leaned down, and he whispered, “I’ll come to see you tomorrow Mom, when this whole circus is over.” 

He pulled away gently.

His mom smiled.

Then Lois, Perry, and Jimmy came over to Martha. He had to fight the urge not to put his sunglasses back on. He had to have faith that Bruce was right. Both Perry and Jimmy glanced at the men assembled and then away without noticing anything untoward. Perry began, “I’m sorry again Martha, I just couldn’t find the words.”

“It’s fine.” Martha soothed. Then she motioned in their direction, “Have you met Mr Wayne?”

Perry nodded, “Of course, Bruce I just didn’t realise before the hullabaloo that you were friends with Clark.”

Bruce nodded, “I don’t let everything about me get in the newspapers Mr White.” Then he cleared his throat, and motioned, “This is my cousin Joseph.”

His ex-boss met his brown eyed gaze; he frowned for a second, and glanced at Martha and back again. He offered his hand, “It’s a pleasure, Mr Wayne, is it?”

He inhaled. As Clark Kent he had always used a lighter pitch of voice, today he used his normal slightly deeper tone. He took the offered hand and said, “Thanks. Perry was it. The Daily Planet is my favourite news service.”

He glanced to the side of Perry, and said, “And you must be James Olsen, I’ve seen your shots in the newspaper, great work.”

His buddy was shocked at the praise and he rambled, “Wow, thanks, gee thanks a lot.” He swallowed hard, “I’m just thankful I wasn’t there when CK got shot, I don’t think I could’ve taken those photographs.” His eyes teared up again.

God, he had an overwhelming urge to tell him, and Perry that he was alive, that it was him standing there in front of them. His heart panged, and he reached out, and patted Jimmy’s shoulder, “Shush Jimmy it’s okay.”

He heard Bruce curse under his breath, at the same time he saw Perry White was staring at him with a look of recognition in his eyes. He tensed his jaw, and he stated soothingly, “I’m sure your friend is going to miss you both, as much as you will miss him.”

Jimmy sniffled, and tried to stand tall, he uttered intuitively, “Thanks, CK.” He saw his buddy go rigid at his Freudian slip of the tongue. His wide eyes met his and he swallowed, “Gee.”

It was too late, they’d been his loyal friends for a long time, and he felt as though they had earned it. He didn’t break his new persona and he didn’t admit anything but he smiled. “I’ll look forward to bumping into you again.”

Perry cleared his throat roughly, and then he offered his hand, “We’ll look forward to it, Mr Wayne did you say?”

He nodded, “That’s right; Joseph Wayne, but you can call me Joe.”

His old mentor shook his hand, “We’ll remember that, won’t we Jimmy?”

Jimmy was still staring at him in awe of his unintentional discovery. He nodded fitfully, “Wow yeah.”

Then Perry guided Jimmy away, “C’mon Jimmy.” He glanced back and said to him, “We’ll see you around, kid.”

Joseph Wayne smiled back, and for the last time said, “See you Chief.”

Then he turned and met the gazes of the other people who had already known his secret. Lois looked shocked, “Wow.”

He said, “I think you’ll have some explaining to do when you get to work tomorrow, Ms Lane.”

She shook her head with foreboding. 

His mom looked accepting.

He met Bruce’s gaze, expecting disapproval. He said, “I’m sorry.”

His partner shook his head and leaned in a little, and uttered, “I understand, they’re good guys.”

Softly, he met his gaze so close. They were distracted as Dick asked, “Have I missed something here?”

They dragged their gazes from each other, and saw their family watching them. He bowed his head, and smiled shyly and began, “Bruce and I, we…”

Dick shook his head, and cutting him off, he asked, “You finally did it, you told him?”

He saw Dick was asking Bruce the question. Before Bruce could reply, Clark asked, “You knew he… that he…?”

“That he was in love with you, of course I knew, I thought it was obvious that you were too… You mean you didn’t know?”

Again, he bowed his head bashfully in admission.

Then he heard. “I knew.”

“So did I.”

“Me too.”

He glanced back up and he saw his family smiling at him. He glanced at Bruce and winced. Bruce was both bashful and annoyed by his feelings being so blatant to the people who knew them best. He urged everyone quietly, “This is a funeral, and we’re not supposed to be happy.”

Dick asked, “Are you happy Bruce?”

Bruce confirmed simply, “Yes.”

The confirmation that he’d made him happy made Clark want to hug him right here and now, but he couldn’t. He whispered, “I can’t wait to get home.”

He watched his partner struggle not to show his happiness. Bruce nodded to him, and then glanced at Dick, “When are you coming home?”

Dick shrugged, “Not yet, I’m not staying away, I’m just trying to find a new path.”

Clark said, “I know that feeling.”

“But you’ve found yours, haven’t you?” his mom asked.

He met Bruce’s gaze.

He nodded.

It was new territory, the way not completely clear, but he had a bearing, and he had a direction and he had a partner to help him along the way. It wasn’t what he imagined his life would be, but the idea of being a Wayne wasn’t so bad.

 

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed Twain as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's one of my own favourites. There might be a companion piece coming later, for anyone interested in what happens to the alternate brothers Clark and Bruce Wayne.
> 
>  


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